Rehab is for Witches

By Tyffani Clark, Cynthia Valero, Elle J. Rossi and 3 more

Welcome to Little Raven: an unsullied, beautiful woodland hamlet in the heart of the Midwest. The sort of place where furry creatures romp about and spend their days bursting into song.

Actually, that’s a giant pack of lies.

Little Raven is a town…for witches.

And some of those witches might have bent the rules. A teensy bit. When six magical miscreants dabble with black magic, they end up together at Incantations, the town’s rehab center for witches gone awry. It’s a slap on the wrist for naughty witches. Pretty much a daycare center so they don’t wander off and start turning people into newts on a whim. Each witch must work through her addiction to black magic, and follow the tenets designed to lead them back to the path of the straight and narrow, as boring as that sounds. Even if following the tenets sucks worse than a group round of kum-bay-ya. Which sucks. Horribly.

• Language: English
• Publisher: SideStreet Cookie Publishing LLC
• Release date: Oct 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519914507

Book preview

Chapter One

Alice Lockwood Brown, as she often liked to refer to herself, was acting suspicious. There was something about the way her eyes shifted more nervously than usual. Her body language suggested that she was afraid someone would come through the door at any moment and drag them out by their hair. Every time the smallest sound was made, she jumped. Once, she'd even squealed. Dierdra had thought one of her potions went wrong the way her screeching carried through the tiny house.

Die watched her skitter about like a little mouse, gathering things for God-only-knew-what and shoving them into her satchel.

Where is that hemlock? Alice said to herself. She tapped her lips with her finger as she tried to remember where she'd put it. She opened the door to the cupboard where she'd just looked, and shut it just as quickly. Turning in a circle - Die thought she resembled a dog chasing its tail - she frowned and checked the counter where they kept the vials.

Have you looked in your bag? Die asked, her tone flat. Pretty sure you already grabbed that. What do you need hemlock for, anyway?

Oh, uh... I'm working on a new...medicinal... um...

Chill, Die said. I'm not the ethics committee. It was just a question.

It's just an experiment. I...um...yeah...it's...

Die squinted one eye at her friend. Why are you acting so suspicious?

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three heavy-handed, urgent knocks came at the front door.

Oh, thank the Goddess, Alice sighed. Thank her and all her mercy.

Die followed Alice to the door with her eyes only. Their house was set up so that, even from the back of the house, she could see through seven rooms to the front door.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The knocks came again. Die's magical insight told her that something was wrong. Something very bad was about to happen, but there wasn't enough time.

The knocks came again.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Break

Dierdra Lovelace wasn't supposed to be practicing magic. Her infractions were such that she'd been put on magical suspension, but the love-sick customers just kept coming, and she couldn't turn them away. Nor could she refuse their money. She didn't have any left after her three year incarceration. Three years without magic had left her more bitter and angry than she'd been before.

What has brought you to me today? Die asked. She considered throwing on a fake accent, just for the sake of cliché. Instead, she adopted a serene pose while her bangles clicked together with her movements.

Miss Lovelace, one of the girls started.

You can call me Die, by the way. Everyone does. She flashed a charming smile while her insides twisted with disgust. She would just as soon watch them feed on the maggot-covered remains of a rotting buffalo carcass than help them find true love. They thought therapy was going to help this mess? She would be more than delighted to prove them all wrong.

As it was, the potions she made for these thrill-seeking, danger-lovers wouldn't have any kind of effect. She was obligated to inform them of her infractions so they could run for their lives if they chose to. These three either didn't believe - in witches or witch rehab - or they were in desperate need of some nooky.

I must inform you that love potions do not equal consent,and under certain articles, I absolve myself of any and all deviant acts that may arise hitherto. Please sign. She shoved a piece of paper across the table to the three young women and waited as they each scrawled their signatures into the page, with ink made of dried rose petals and some red berries. She'd made it to resemble blood because she liked the way people freaked out when they used it.

The last one signed her name with a flourish, like she thought she was some kind of movie star or something. Her blonde hair fell over her shoulder like amber waves of grain. Die snorted to herself. Idalia Wood. Great name. If the girl was an onion.

Now what? Idalia asked. The other two girls nodded.

Followers. Die hated them just as much as she hated leaders.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

A heavy knock on the door made the three women jump. Idalia made a little scream. Dierdra smirked, even though her heart fell into the pit of her stomach. She'd always known that her extracurriculars would get her in trouble. She'd never assumed her one and only friend would be the one to turn her in.

Excuse me.

She knew who it was. She'd been expecting them since the girls showed up and wouldn't leave. She walked to the old wooden door to her bedroom. It didn't even touch the doorframe on all four sides. Die could hear voices from the hall.

The door creaked when she opened it. On the other side stood two officers of the Little Raven Magical Relations Task Force. One was stocky, bald, and decidedly unattractive. The other made her quiver with nothing more than the look in his dark brown eyes. He glanced at her through lowered lashes. His long, sleek hair hung over his shoulders to the place where she imagined his navel and happy trail began. She was guessing about the happy trail, of course. She knew him to be called Bear. He frequented the pub downstairs where she worked seven days a week for her room and board. That wasn't his real name. At least, not his real first name. She could imagine him growling like a bear.

What can I do for you fine gentlemen of the law? she asked, pulling the sleeves of her cardigan down. Her eyes never left Bear's, but his didn't leave her eyes either. Die's ears strained to hear his voice, if he would only speak.

We received information pertaining to the unlawful peddling of confiscated and magical goods, Ms. Lovelace, the stocky officer said. The annoying twang and the way he pronounced her name Luv-Lace as if it were two words, immediately put him on her shit-list. It is my understanding that you are not to be practicing magic of any kind, much less mixing up potions of the love variety. Am I right, or am I wrong?

Die forced a smile, though she wasn't sure if it was kind or not. I have no magic. She lifted her hand to finger the amulet at her throat. I was fitted with this collar to make sure I didn't use anymore magic. Whatever I've mixed up for these women is nothing more than a few herbs. There went her payday. She heard the women gasp. Likely, they would tell anyone they knew, and the truth would spread through the small town like a fire in the middle of summer. She wouldn't be making anymore potions for these

people. Luckily, all sales were final.

Be that as it may-

A girl's got to make money, somehow. Why don't I mix you up a sleeping potion, hmm? Judging from the bags under your eyes, it's been a while since you got a good night's rest.

Why wouldn't the pretty one speak? It wasn't like she was going to invite him in and have her way with him. She just wanted to hear him talk. Obviously a native around these parts, she knew that his voice would be like silk. If only he would part his full lips and-

I don't think so, Ms. Lovelace, but I appreciate the gesture. No more selling, or I'm going to have to report you.

Die finally rolled her eyes and let the sweet girl act slip.

Get the fuck out. Die stepped to the side and motioned to the women. Just get out.

Idalia and her girls hurried out. Idalia made eyes at Bear, who smiled back politely, but he didn't bother to say anything. Sensing the snub, Idalia huffed.

"I can't believe I let someone like you trick me into believing."

Die arched an eyebrow. I can't make anyone believe something they don't want to believe. My potions work. Now, get out before I put a hex on you and make all of that pretty hair fall out of your misshapen head.

Idalia gasped and reached up to touch her hair. She turned and ran, her friends hurrying after her.

The pudgy, irritating officer tipped an imaginary hat at her, like he thought he was some kind of cowboy doing a good deed.

Have a good evening ma'am, he drawled

Why don't you just fuck off? she snapped bitterly.

The pretty one eyed her once more. Die tucked her thick, curly hair behind her ears. His eyes caught at her bare wrist and lingered. She was quick to pull the sleeve back down before he could see too much.

Good night, she said softly.

Please say something, she begged in her mind. A word, a gentle touch, that was all she needed. That was what she lived off of.

Good night, Ms. Lovelace.

Pleasure blossomed in her chest and spread out through her limbs, making them tingle and move of their own accord, like she wasn't sure where to put them. His voice was everything she'd expected it to be. Deep, smooth, gentle, yet with a hint of something almost animalistic.

Have a good evening.

How long is your shift? she asked, and immediately regretted it. She didn't want him thinking she was trying to get something from him. She just wanted to hear him speak.

He checked his wristwatch. It ends in five minutes. He grinned. I was going to stop downstairs and get a drink before heading out.

Die nodded. Was that an invitation? Or was he just being friendly? She wished she could read intentions as well as she could read symptoms.

I'll probably be down in a little bit. If it gets busy. I work...I'm a bartender. Of course, he knew that. She'd waited on him once or twice.

I look forward to it.

She watched him walk away. He held his back with confidence, his stride speaking of someone who was very comfortable with themselves. She smiled.

Die threw on a different sweater, something with longer sleeves that she could bunch up at the wrists so her skin wouldn't show. Out of all the witches in Rehab, she felt like a fucking hippie with her baggy sweaters and her earth tones. It was all designed to draw attention to her face, but the attention she got was negative, even where her beauty was concerned. She couldn't deny that she was enchanting to look at, but that was all anyone saw. Her pretty, cursed face.

Die changed from her skirt into a pair of jeans that hugged her hips and slipped some sandals on her feet. She didn't bother to look in the mirror or put on any make-up. She didn't need it. That was all part of the curse. She could have shaved her head and drawn tribal marks all over her skin, and still get any man she wanted. If she wanted.

It took less than five minutes to get ready, so she forced herself to wait the time out. She didn't want to look desperate.

The pretty officer was sitting at the bar when Die came down the stairs. Over the years, she'd grown used to the way men stopped to look at her whenever she entered a room. There was always a moment of enduring calm and utter lust that filled the space of three seconds before they realized they were drooling. It wasn't uncommon for women to stop and look, too.

When the officer looked up, there was a smile on his face that transformed him from someone who could put her away for good, to someone she'd like to take back to her room and do unspeakable things to. With a beer bottle poised at his lips, he winked and turned away. He actually turned away.

Die stumbled, her sandal catching on a spot where the rug had worn away from the step just enough to make it hazardous. She gripped the

handrail to stop her forward momentum, and sucked in a breath as the ragged wood bit into her palm. Great. Fucking splinters.

Are you alright?

Strong, warm hands caught her before she fell face-first down the last two steps. She knew his voice, had been hearing it from the first moment he spoke upstairs. His scent was warm and thick, like leather and sweet incense smoke.

Yeah, I'm okay. I'm not usually so clumsy. Actually, she was ridiculously clumsy without her magic. She'd relied on it too much when she'd had it.

They say I have that effect on women.

Die looked up, her eyes wide, ready to rattle off a smart-ass remark about how she didn't fall for just anyone...or something like that.

I've never seen it until today, though. You must be special.

It was a line, but delivered with that deep, flawless voice, and smelling so intensely inviting, there was no way she was going to walk away unscathed. He had to know that, had to sense what he was doing inside her. Or maybe that was just her sickness reminding her not to get too close to this guy.

Maybe she didn't give a flying fuck.

Did you need a new drink?

No, but I think you need some first aid.

He took her hand in his and turned it over. A splinter the size of a floorboard stuck out of her palm. Deep red blood swelled around it and rolled toward her cupped palm.

I'm Bear, by the way. I think you're going to need stitches.

It'll be fine. Die tried to pull her hand from his grasp, but he held it fast, refusing to let go until she looked into his eyes. I'll just put a salve on it and it will be good as new.

What kind of man would I be if I let you walk away from me with a wound like this?

A wound? She laughed, still fighting him for control over her hand and losing. That hardly qualifies as a wound. Heat crept up her arm. She felt her skin flush from where he held her hand, and run up her arm to her neck. The skin of her forearm itched, and she wished she could pull herself free and run. Anywhere but here. This man was going to get under her skin quickly, and she couldn't have that.

Still, let me clean it and stitch it for you. Please.

Are you a doctor?

Bear shook his head, and his satin-shiny hair fell about his shoulders. It was longer than her hair would be if it were straight. Oh, how she longed to touch it, run her fingers through it. What would it feel like caressing her body?

With a jerk, Die came back to reality, blushing furiously. There was no way he'd missed the longing in her eyes just then. He probably thought she was in heat. Die wasn't so sure that she wasn't.

Bear's eyes danced with unshed mirth. The corners of his full lips twitched like they were begging her to stare.

Okay.

His brow furrowed for just a moment, and she realized she'd asked the last question.

Let me, um, grab a few beers before we go. Where are we going?

People assumed she was good with men, and Die allowed them to think that. It was far better than them knowing that she was awkward and inexperienced, though not a virgin. She wished she was.

Up to your room.

Die nodded. You know where it is. I'll just be a minute.

Turning away, Die made a quick getaway, ducking behind the bar to grab several bottles of beer and a bucket of ice to keep them in.

Hey, pretty lady. I'd like a-

I'm not on the clock, Die said in a hurry. Dashing back to the stairs, she thought she might make it out of sight before-

Where are you going with those? The old woman who ran the bar, Pearl, screeched. She was a wicked witch of a woman who wore clothes that suggested she might be a dominatrix. She kept her stark white hair cut short in a bob that brushed her cheek bones. Her skin was wrinkled and leathery. And there was a natural beauty to her that made Die jealous.

To my room, Die replied without stopping. Take it out of my check.

She didn't get a check. She got a place to stay until rehab was over, or she failed out of it. Whichever came first.

Bear wasn't outside her door when she got there, but the door stood ajar. She couldn't even muster indignation at the fact that he'd gone into her inner sanctum without her permission. Well, she had kind of given him permission, in a strangely off-handed way.

She took a moment to steel herself before she marched inside. She was not going to sleep with this man. She wanted him to stay alive.

Chapter Two

The brute handled her bottles with so little care that she was sure he would scratch them up just from his rough, ugly, dirty hands alone. The way he tossed them into the bags as he cleared the shelves made her want to scream at him to just stab her in the chest, instead. Those bottles were a lifetime’s worth of collecting. Some had even belonged to her mother, a woman she'd never had the chance to meet.

What is this? one of the other men asked.

There were five of them in total. Two held her back while the other three searched the house for any paraphernalia they could find to use against her during her trial. Witch trials were not a thing of the past, but at least among her peers she would get a fair shake. Well, as fair as possible, considering what she was up for.

That's peppermint ice cream, she said. Homemade.

It was really good, actually, Alice's meek voice spoke up.

Die growled, and lunged at the woman she thought was supposed to be her friend. How long have you been spying on me? she hissed.

Since the day we met, Alice said, her voice becoming stronger. She pushed her tiny round glasses up her nose. It was my job to make sure you stayed where we could see you, and to gather proof of your misdeeds.

Die's stomach twisted until she thought she might be sick. Fucking witch bitch! she shouted. I thought you were my friend.

I wanted to be, Alice admitted. But the truth is, I had a job to do. I really like you, but... She shrugged.

You're weak. You think you can play spy, but you almost had a heart-attack when you were waiting for the enforcers to get here, you stupid bitch!

Alice shrugged and pulled something out of her bag. Die's eyes widened with shock and fear. The golden leather-bound tome gleamed in the light of the kitchen. The little witch had done her homework. If they read her grimoire, they'd lock her away until the end of time and keep her dust and bones pressed between the pages of the book, just in case she broke free of the afterlife.

You wouldn't, Die whispered.

Alice smiled over the edge of her glasses, and waved a hand over the jewel-encrusted lock to open it.

Break

Bear stood at her dresser—a ratty wicker thing that didn't go with anything else in the room—looking over an assortment of potion bottles. He looked up when he heard Die walk into the room. The look on his face said please don't make me have to report you. Those are empty for the most part, she said. Even if they weren't, I have no magic. She touched the amulet at her throat again. She couldn't help it. Being without her magic made her feel naked, vulnerable. Even after all this time. She'd had it since she was young. It was like being without an arm, or a leg, or an eye. Her perception of the world around her was darker now, dull and empty.

Well, the bottles are beautiful, Bear said.

I gathered them through my travels. Some of those are tonics, a couple salves. A few were potions, but when they caught me... They were nice enough to let me keep the least expensive ones, she said flatly. Die held up the beers. You want one?

I'd like to take a look at that hand before we do anything else.

Die smirked, but on the inside her stomach twisted with fear and regret. What else did you think was going to happen?

I was going to take care of your hand, he said matter-of-factly. Then, who knows? The night is young and I'm starting to get hungry.

Bear rubbed his stomach.

Hungry? Die chuckled. Of course, you would be. She set the bucket on the floor and put the beers in the ice. How do you want me?

She expected a dirty remark, or something to hint at what he expected to come from the night. Instead, Bear motioned to the small round table, surrounded by pillows of every color imaginable, in the middle of the floor.

Sit.

Die did obediently as she was told.

Do you have a first aid kit? Bear asked.

Die nodded and pointed to the cabinet under all those beautiful bottles. And if you want, that green bottle is a salve. Bear gave her a disbelieving look. I promise, she said off-handedly, putting one hand over her heart and the other in the air.

I take promises very seriously. His straight face and harsh tone conveyed the severity of the moment. Please.

Die's head swiveled to the side. T'was the please that caught my attention. God. How long had it been since she'd seen that movie? Since the day she realized that it only hurt her to see people who loved each other the way she'd loved... him. She'd only been sixteen. Not old enough to

understand what she'd done or the things that were done to her.

I promise, she said again, hoping he got the hint.

Bear turned away, but she thought she caught the gentle upturn of his beautiful mouth. Full lips and straight, perfect teeth. What she wouldn't give to kiss him. Just once. But even that was forbidden to her. The consequences didn't match the crime of youthful hope.

Bear came and sat next to her. With a bandage, a disinfecting wipe, and the salve in hand, he took her hand in his and inspected the wound.

Yeah, this is kind of bad. There was a touch of humour in his tone. Are you always this clumsy?

Die shook her head. Only when people are smiling at me the way you did.

He chuckled. I apologize. I'll try to be less reckless with my charm.

I didn't say that, Die said softly. Was she really flirting? That was kind of unacceptable. And incredibly fun.

The disinfectant burned. Die hissed through her teeth and tried to pull away, but Bear held her fast. His soft brown eyes looked up into her own.

I wouldn't hurt you on purpose, he said, the depths of his gaze speaking truer than his words. It only lasts a minute, but the pain cleanses you of the bad things held inside.

Die frowned. Something stirred in her chest. A whisper, a hint of what she held inside, fluttered in her chest. She looked away from him, pulling away so they were no longer touching.

What's wrong? he asked. There was a strange lilt in his voice. Did I say something wrong?

She looked up at him. His eyes were intent, burning, knowing. He knew what he stirred in her, both sexual and painful. He did it on purpose.

Let me finish. Bear held his hand out to her and waited.

Die contemplated demanding that he leave. Who was he to come in here, acting like he knew her? How dare he stir feelings that she'd been so successful in locking away for so long? Why would he care about someone so rotten and despicable?

But if he left, she'd be alone, and she was so tired of being alone. Her loneliness ached in her bones. It reverberated in her heart like the dissonant cry of a tortured soul.

Die put her hand in his once more, but she was ready for this man's tricks now. She knew what he was up to, and she knew how to deny him.

The moment Bear opened the bottle of salve, a thick, oily scent filled the air.

Mint and lavender? Bear asked.

She nodded. I scented it. I was trying to cover the oily smell, but it didn't work very well.

Bear smirked. I should let you talk with our medicine woman.

I'm not allowed to associate with purveyors of witchcraft, unless they are directly connected to my rehabilitation, she quoted.

It's not witchcraft. It's medicine. And it would be. I could arrange it.

Die frowned. Why?

His deep, expressive eyes bore into hers, weighing on her conscience. I like you, and I want to see you walk the straight and narrow. He grinned.

Die laughed, in spite of herself. I don't think I will ever walk the straight and narrow, even if I do end up rehabilitated.

Is there a chance you won't?

She shrugged. There's always a chance. You never know what will happen tomorrow.

All done. He covered her hand with his. It was warm and sent shivers through her body. Tingles spread up the skin of her arm. This was the second time his touch had done that to her. Now that I've performed intensive surgery, I think it's time we got some dinner.

Die grinned. I know just the place.

Chapter Three

Berma's Mudbugs had the best crawfish within a hundred miles. Having been raised in New Orleans, Die knew the difference. These reminded her of home. She ripped one in half and sucked the head, tossing the empty shell in a bucket. With her teeth, she pulled the meat out of the other half and sent the body to reunite with its head.

I don't know how the hell you can eat so many of those things in one sitting, Bear said in awe.

I grew up on them, she admitted. The spicier, the better.

He smiled, his striking face softening just a little bit. You're quite the enigma, he said.

There's nothing enigmatic about me. I was a broken teenager who grew into a fucked-up adult. She shrugged. That's all there is.

I don't believe that. Bear reached up and brushed something away from her hair. His eyes lingered on that spot, dancing around as if he was watching something fly around her head.

What is it? she asked, waving her hand in the air. What's wrong? Are there bugs in my hair? She almost shrieked.

No, Bear chuckled. He grabbed her flailing wrist and pulled it gently back down into her lap. There aren't any bugs in your hair. Did you know that when you get excited, for any reason, your aura turns to black smoke? I can see it swirling around you, right now. It twists and twirls around through your curls, and you get this dark countenance that makes you just radiate this ethereal, sinister beauty. I don't think anyone else can see it.

Die stared, slack-jawed. No one had ever spoken to her like that before, and they certainly hadn't talked to her about her aura.

You can see my aura? she asked, as if they were speaking of her most intimate places.

I can see your curse. He smiled. I can see you past the curse.

Die's eyes widened in fear and shock. No one was supposed to see past her curse. She suddenly felt naked, even with her long sleeves and heavy sweater. Panic made her heart race, pumping adrenaline and fear through her veins.

I have to go. She fished in her pocket for some cash and dropped it on the counter. It wasn't enough to cover the meal, but it was all she had

to give. Die slid off her seat, stumbling in her haste to get away from the one man, the one person, who could see through to who she really was. If he could see her, he could ruin her. How many years had she been running, fighting to keep anyone from seeing the real her? The fear wasn't completely unfounded. She didn't even know who she was anymore. The prospect of someone seeing something she couldn't control filled her with crippling terror.

Dierdra ran the mile back to The Broken Broomstick without stopping for anything, not even to breathe or answer the old hag's questions about where she'd been. When she made it back to her room, she slammed the door and leaned against it. If she hadn't been panting for air, she'd have been sobbing. There was one way to break her curse. The old witch had told her the truth just before she disappeared. But to break the curse was to die to herself, and she wasn't ready for that yet.

A knock on the door startled Die out of her painful reverie of the night she'd killed the man she loved. Tentatively, she turned the knob, but left the chain latched.

Bear's smooth, tan face and knowledgeable eyes stared back at her. He held up the few dollars she'd left on the table.

I never expected you to pay.

I didn't want to seem rude, she said through the crack in the door.

Well, to do that, you'd have had to stay and talk to me.

Die scrunched her face. She reached through the door to take the money, but Bear snatched it just out of her grasp.

Let me in and I'll give your money back.

I don't want to let you in.

Yes, you do, he said with a humored smile. You're terrified and you're intrigued. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But you want me to come in. I'll even stay if you ask me to.

Die stopped. Stay? What makes you think I want you to stay? She tried for indignant and missed.

Bear grinned. Are you going to let me in? was all he said.

Die closed the door and slid the chain-latch out. When she opened it again, Bear was leaning against the doorframe.

I brought you a doggy box, he said with a smile. I wanted to watch you eat more crawdads.

Die shook her head and stepped aside so he could enter. The desire to sleep with him was great, but greater still was the desire to keep him alive. She watched his narrow hips as he sauntered into the room, looking around as if he hadn't already been inside once that night. She was in a world of trouble.

Chapter Four

Die woke slowly, aware that something was wrong. Not wrong-wrong, but different-wrong. She couldn't quite put her finger on it until she saw the beautiful man asleep in her bed. Bare chest on full display, his dark hair splayed out around him. She was sure that, if he woke and sat up, it would be just as perfect, and silky and soft, as the night before.

Without jostling the bed too much, Die rolled from between the covers and onto her feet on the creaking floor. Tip-toeing to the best of her ability, she made it to the small bathroom without waking him. She was a firm believer in letting sleeping Bears lie, whether they were beautiful men in her bed, or large creatures in the woods looking for dinner. Although she wasn't opposed to Bear having her for dinner. Or lunch. Or breakfast, for that matter. Just not today. She was already late for rehab.

Bear hadn't woken by the time she sneaked out the door. At least she wasn't the one who had to do the walk of shame today.

The sun wasn't high in the sky when she left the Broomstick, but the morning was bright, and clear, and mild. Her sweater was going to get warm later on, but for the time being she was comfortable. The walk to the ferry was short, though ferry was a generous word for the small dingy-sized boat that could carry two people. Three, if they were tiny.

Morning, she said to the ferryman. He nodded and pushed off the bank. Though he stared straight ahead, Die was aware of his wary eye on her the whole trip across the River Hex. When they made it to the far bank, she didn't even thank him. Die jumped out of the boat, more than happy to be on dry, firm ground once again.

She wasn't the first witch to arrive to their sessions. There were two others. One, a pale-skinned girl with short, dark hair cut just a little longer than Pearl's, and sporting a set of knitting needles and something she was working on. And the second wore a pair of sunglasses, indoors, in a room with no windows.

The Counselor, a squatty looking man with round spectacle-style glasses and an antique-looking pen, sat in a chair at one side of what would soon be their therapy circle.

Dierdra Lovelace, he said, ticking something off on his clipboard with the pen. Would you please read and sign these papers? Last minute stuff. We weren't able to get hold of you...

I don't have a phone, she volunteered in the silence he let stretch between them. Die took the pen and clipboard. She turned the pen in her hand. It was fancy and looked older than any of them. She touched it to the paper and signed her name. It flashed momentarily and the light faded.

Magical signature, Fitzsimmons said with a small, awkward smile. Magically binding. He shifted uneasily in his seat and frowned at her as she handed them back.

The other three trickled in slowly over the next half hour. Die paid them little attention until one walked in who she couldn't help but stare at. There were so many piercings in her face that one had to wonder if she felt any kind of pain at all. Maybe her face was numb.

We're all here, Fitzsimmons said. Shall we begin?

I left a man in my bed, Die blurted. Can we make this quick so I can get back to him?

Ah. Well, then please allow me to accommodate you.

Die sneered at Fitzsimmons' sour tone.

Since you're so ready to share, why don't we start with you? A few of the other witches snickered. The knitting witch to her left—her name was Gertrude, if one could imagine—paid them little attention as she knitted away.

Tell us a little about yourself.

Die looked around the circle of witches. Their haughty gazes said they were just glad they didn't have to speak first. Fuck, if this wasn't the worst day of her life.

I'm Dierdra Lovelace. Die, for short. D-I-E, not like Princess Di.

Yes, and? Counselor Fitzsimmons prodded when she didn't go on. Why are you here, Dierdra? He pronounced her name purposefully, so everyone would know. He thought he was in charge.

And I fucked up a few love potions. Ruined a couple lives. She shrugged, uncaring. Turnabout was fair play, and she planned to continue her trek toward the dark side as soon as this shit was over. She was a good actress, had to be to sell so many bad potions to so many unsuspecting, lovesick puppies, even though the evidence against her was so abounding.

A few? Try sixty, Fitzsimmons said with a raised eyebrow. He was pushing her, trying to get more information out of her.

That you know of. Die spoke with a hint of malice, and just a touch of promise.

Fitzsimmons blinked at her, as if this was a concept he hadn't thought of before. Die just smirked.

It's kind of sad that you have to use a love potion to get a man to love you, a meek but confident voice said from beside her.

Dierdra's head snapped around and she pinned the nerdy girl with the 90's bob haircut with a look of hatred.

At least I don't have to turn him into a zombie to get him to eat me.

Several snickers sounded around the room, one of which sounded positively male, before the nerdy witch said, Why would I want him to eat me?

The confusion in her face and voice made Dierdra's jaw drop. She was the one who couldn't have sex, and this nineteen-year old who claimed to love her man so much that she'd brought him back from the dead didn't even know-

Alright, that's enough, Fitzsimmons said. Ladies? Eyes on me. Let's move on, shall we?

Break

Bear was leaning against a tree as Die left Incantations. With his hands tucked behind his head, his long, lean body stretched out, he looked like the epitome of sex on a stick. A brown paper bag sat on the floor at his feet. Next to it was a pretty red rose. When he saw her, his brown eyes lit up, and a slow, sexy smile turned his stoic face into something to rival the sun.

Die smiled back, unable to resist him and his charm. He was going to be the death of her. Or she the death of him. She honestly preferred the former.

I haven't figured out if you're aware of your effect on women or if your charm is actually natural.

Bear pushed away from the tree and she took his place. His scent was everywhere, thick and heady, wrapping around her. She breathed it in, trying to be inconspicuous.

I'm afraid it's natural. I couldn't be charming on purpose if I wanted to be. I've tried and it's not pretty. He held out the bag. I brought you lunch. Tuna sandwich. I made it myself when the girl I slept with last night left me alone in bed.

Die's cheeks flushed. At the same time, one of the other witches, the one with all the metal in her face, walked by, staring like she'd never seen two people flirt before.

Rehab, she told him. I didn't have much choice.

I figured. That's why I didn't cry too much when I woke up alone in a cold, strange bed. He smirked. There's a little place just this side of the River Hex, if you want to join me for lunch.

Die grinned. Are you asking me on a picnic?

Yeah. Yeah, I am. Is that too cheesy? He didn't look much like he cared if it was cheesy or not.

I don't think I've ever been on a picnic, she admitted. How sad was that?

Well, I'll be your first, then. Bear winked.

Die fell into step beside him, her sack lunch swinging from one hand. They were silent for a few moments, only the sound of their feet on the plush green grass and the ducks paddling in the river making any noise.

So, is Bear your real name?

No, but you don't get to hear that just yet. He grinned. I think it's only fair to tell you that I've been assigned to you as your parole officer. I didn't want you to get the wrong idea.

Die nodded, disappointed and a little disgusted in herself for thinking he might actually be interested in a witch who made her money exploding penises. So, this picnic lunch is just to keep an eye on me.

She kept walking, hating herself a little more with every step.

You know what, take this. She shoved the sandwich into his chest, hoping it smooshed all over the place. I don't even like tuna.

Bear took the bag and grabbed her wrist. Stop, Dierdra.

Die, she corrected.

See, this is what I meant. I didn't want you to get the wrong idea, thinking I was asking you to lunch to keep an eye on you. He tugged on her arm and pulled her off balance, a little closer to him. Don't assume that everyone is out to get you.

That's how they caught me, she admitted, unsure of why she was telling him, or why there were tears in her eyes. They had someone pretend to be my friend. I get that what I was doing was wrong, I never thought for one moment that it wasn't, but she... I'd never had a friend before.

Die shook her head, her curls bouncing around her face. She pulled out of his grasp to wipe at her tears. Sorry, she said.

I'll be your friend. Bear took her hand in his. As long as you understand that I will drag your happy ass to jail if I have to. Kicking and screaming, if it comes to that.

Die smiled, sure that he would do just that. If that's what gets you off.

Mm, he purred. You wish you knew what got me off. Bear brushed at something above her head. Shall we?

The grassy knoll behind Incantations sat atop a hill overlooking the river. From there, Die could see the magic town of Little Raven. The Broken Broomstick, a rickety, old, falling-down building still stood proudly—somehow. Whatever storms it had weathered hadn't crushed its spirit, even if they had ripped off a few shingles and shutters. The dormer where her room was on the second floor stuck out like a sore thumb. But it was home for now.

Is it true? Bear asked. About the exploding penises?

Die snorted and giggled. Yeah, once. That wasn't my fault, though. He had sought the advice of a shaman before he came to see me and I didn't know.

So, the shaman exploded his penis? He grimaced. You know what? I don't want to talk about this.

Die laughed. You brought it up.

I guess I'm just curious, he said. What makes a witch use love potions to kill?

Haven't I had enough therapy for one day? she asked. Seriously.

Sorry.

He stared out over the river, his eyes dark and pensive.

So you brought me a sandwich? Why did this have to be so awkward? She hated being awkward.

You don't like tuna.

I do. I love tuna.

You said you didn't.

I was just being a bitch. I like tuna.

Bear blinked at her. Why are you so mean?

Just give me the sandwich! She reached for it, but Bear snatched it back. Die lost her balance and fell forward, landing on top of him. Heat scorched her through both layers of clothing, and her body reacted like that of a hormone-induced teenager. Bear hooked an arm around her and pulled her flush against him, nose to nose

Um, she said, breathless.

Bear grinned. Speechless? I slept really well with you next to me, he said. I don't sleep much anymore.

Die lifted an eyebrow. Oh no? Dare I ask why?

I've seen and done things I wish I didn't have to.

Die nodded. I can understand that. But you seem like such a standup guy.

His smile was rueful this time. I wish.

You smile a lot. Sure fooled me.

Smiling doesn't mean I'm not tortured. It just means I know how to see past the darkness. What about you? You're shy. I can tell. The way you blush is a dead giveaway.

She knew she was blushing again, but she couldn't help it. I don't have as much experience as everyone wants to believe I do.

I can believe that. I'd imagine that's why you like to...explode penises.

Die shook her head. That's not it at all. My inexperience has nothing to do with choice, either. I don't have sex, she confessed, trying to sound more proud of it than she actually was.

Never? Bear asked, his eyes wide with disbelief. No wonder you're such a bitch.

Die gasped. On impulse her right fist swung to deliver a powerful punch to his rib cage, but he shifted out of the way, just too fast to be considered normal. The velocity of her swing threw her off balance as she hit the grass. Pain shot up her wrist to her elbow and she gasped again.

Careful. Bear's arms went around her again, pulling her up so she was sitting across his lap. Don't go fighting bears without the proper weapons, little witch. Not unless you want to get bitten. Let me see.

Die let him look at her hand, thinking she might not mind if he bit her. Especially not when his strong, warm fingers started kneading her wrist. Heat shot up her arm and into her chest. It coursed through her veins, pooling low in her belly.

Anyway, she said, clearing her throat. What does it matter to you whether or not I have sex? She tugged her wrist from his grasp before she did something out of