Spellbound & Starcrossed: Suburban Witch Mysteries, #5

By Ruby Blaylock

It's a dog-gone mystery what's happened to Seneca's beloved pooch, Alistair...

When Seneca finds that her beloved bulldog is actually a handsome young heir to a wizard mafia family's fortune, she's understandably surprised.

But when she finds out that her own missing father was the one who turned the young man into a dog and then bound him to his daughter using magic, Seneca's downright angry.

While she's trying to find a solution to her sticky situation, there's a murder in the magical realm--her father's former business partner has been killed. Could her father be the killer? And can she find him before the magical mafia does so she can break the binding spell, save the newfound heir, and get her life back to some sort of normal?

With a little help from her coven, two talking cats, one former dog, and a cute wizard cop, anything is possible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JB Woods
• Release date: Jun 7, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393051664

Ruby Blaylock

Ruby Blaylock grew up in a small, southern town surrounded by colorful characters and lots of food. She loves a good helping of gossip and great food, not necessarily in that order. She is a country girl at heart and can often be found sitting on the back porch, sipping sweet tea and watching her fat hound dogs chase bugs. If she's not reading a book, she's writing one, or reading one to her kids, who can always help her think up new ways to kill off annoying characters.

Book preview

Ruby Blaylock

Spellbound & Starcrossed

A Suburban Witch Mystery

First published by JB Woods 2019

Copyright © 2019 by Ruby Blaylock

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

First edition

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Thank You

Chapter One

The dark-haired, handsome man in Seneca’s kitchen couldn’t remember the last time he’d drank actual coffee from a real mug. He grasped the hot container of caffeinated, sugary goodness with both hands and drank it greedily. His brain worked overtime, trying to figure out how long he’d been trapped in the form of the British Bulldog. It could have been years, or it could have been decades—with every dog year equaling seven human years, he wondered how he was supposed to figure it out without a calculator.

He adjusted the fluffy white bathrobe that covered him. Seneca hadn’t had any men’s clothing in her house and she hadn’t even mentioned getting him something else to wear. It had been such a chaotic blur, the time between him lying helplessly on her bed as the spell wore off, and now.

He twitched as the spell tried to wear itself off. That woman, the doctor, told him that this was normal. Soon, she said, he’d be able to speak again and would likely regain his memories. It was so hard to remember, only vague shadows of memories showed themselves to him. He remembered being a dog. He’d been a dog when he’d woken up that morning. And he couldn’t recall feeling that he shouldn’t be a dog, that was the disorienting part. Was he a man trapped in a dog’s body, or a dog that had been suddenly turned into a man?

Alistair stole a glance at his reflection in the mirror across the room. His hair was short, dark, and spiky. His eyes were the color of warm fudge brownies. And his skin was pale, though he thought that might be expected after being kept out of the sun, hidden beneath the fur coat of his doggie form, for so many years.

Can I get you something to eat? Seneca’s voice sounded different to his ears now. When he was a dog, her voice was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard or hoped to hear. As a human, she sounded a little annoyed and very impatient. Food? She turned to the doctor. Can he understand me?

Doctor Compton nodded furiously. Oh, yes, I think he can! But he’s bound to be a little disoriented. After all, that spell had been on him for a terribly long time. He may be feeling a little discomfort, too. Just bring something light for him to eat, some soup, perhaps. We don’t want to push him too hard, too fast.

Seneca frowned. Eliza, when will we know who he is? I can’t just keep a strange man in my house indefinitely.

Eliza Compton set her mouth in a firm line. That is exactly what you’re going to have to do, I’m afraid. He is still bound to you. You can’t just send him away. Until I can find a way to un-bind him from you, you are responsible for him.

Seneca’s expression told Alistair that she wasn’t sure she was prepared to take care of him, at least, not in his human form. He wondered if he should just try and stay with Ellie and Holly. Or Mischa—she always treated him kindly and gave him lots of treats from her kitchen. He didn’t want to leave Seneca, but he could tell that his presence was making her sad. He couldn’t stand the thought of making her sad. She was his human, his best friend. His…owner?

The word struck something inside of him, unleashing a flow of emotions that he wasn’t quite prepared for. Happiness, sorrow, frustration, and anger all swirled around inside him like rising flood waters. He felt tears prick at his eyes and he touched them delicately with fingers that he hadn’t seen in so very long.

Seneca looked uncomfortable now, and she hurried off to the kitchen. The doctor kept looking at him through some sort of contraption that he supposed was a doctor’s tool. She listened to his heart, peered into his ears, and kept checking his pulse in his wrist. He wasn’t sure if she was worried about him or just trying to find a way to pass the time.

If we could just get your name out of you, that would be a start, Eliza muttered, peering into his throat. She left him alone as Seneca returned with a bowl of something warm that smelled delicious.

Here. I’ve brought you some soup. Maybe it will help you feel…better. She slid the bowl towards him and placed a spoon beside it.

Alistair lowered his head to inhale the scent. It was chicken noodle, with large chunks of chicken floating in a golden broth. A piece of carrot stuck to one side of the bowl. He pushed it down into the broth with a gangly finger, then licked the broth from his fingertip. Finally, he lowered his head and began lapping at the soup.

Oh! Seneca’s eyes widened in surprise. No, not like that, she said, but she said it in a gentle tone that surprised him. Can you use a spoon?

Alistair gripped the spoon awkwardly, but his muscles seemed to remember the act from somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind. He lowered the spoon into the soup, then raised it to his lips. He was rewarded with a smile from Seneca, who sat beside him.

Who are you? she asked, knowing full well that she likely wouldn’t receive an answer. And why would my father give you to me? She felt her cheeks flush as she recalled her father’s words. I’ve brought you something, Seneca. A friend who won’t ever leave you, a pet for you to love and care for. He’d given her a human being, trapped in an animal’s body, and she’d never even known it.

Alistair sipped at his soup slowly. It took more effort to eat with the spoon, but after a few bites, he seemed to be getting the hang of it. Whether it was muscle memory or he was a quick learner, her had managed to finish the soup in a fairly short time. When there was just a little liquid in the bottom, he pushed the bowl away and wiped his mouth with the paper napkin Seneca had provided. Then, he closed his eyes.

My…my name…is…Alistair. He let out a huge breath, then opened his mouth again. Alistair Orlikov. The effort made his face red, but Seneca and Eliza seemed delighted.

You really are an Alistair? Oh, and you know your last name, too! Maybe we can figure out where he came from, Seneca said to Eliza.

The witch doctor frowned. Wherever he came from, he’s been missing from there for over a decade. We need to be careful about how we approach this. Someone is likely to be looking for him and they may not be very happy about where or how he’s been.

Seneca’s smile faded. Oh, my goodness! I didn’t think about that! He’s probably got a home, a family, parents… She chewed at her lip for a moment. Are…are you married? Do you have any children?

Alistair surprised her with a laugh. His eyes twinkled and he seemed surprised to hear the sound of laughter coming from his mouth. I’m just… He paused. I was just a kid when I came to live with you. I think I was eighteen. How long has it been? His words were a little unsteady, but he seemed to be regaining his ability to speak remarkably quickly now.

Seneca did the math quickly in her head. A little over ten years. That would make you twenty-eight.

He looked down at his body in amazement. He didn’t look twenty-eight. He supposed that the magic slowed his aging a little. He looked more like he was in his early twenties at most. He rubbed his chin, expecting to find stubble or even a Rip Van Winkle-worthy beard, but his face was as smooth as a peach.

How…how did this happen to you? Seneca had been dying to know ever since Eliza told her that a spell had been responsible for Alistair’s canine form. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to hear the answer, but she needed to know. She had to find out if her father was responsible for such a reprehensible act against this poor young man.

Alistair furrowed his brow, his brown eyes narrowing in concentration. It’s very fuzzy. I can’t remember much of anything before…before I came to live with you. He rubbed his face in his hands.

How long before he gets his memories back? Seneca needed answers, maybe even more than Alistair did. She searched Eliza’s face for a hopeful sign that those answers would be quick in coming.

I don’t know. It could be hours or it could be days. He may not ever fully regain them. I don’t know the exact spell used on him. We just have to hope that he recovers them soon so we can figure out what to do with him.

What to do with me?

Eliza smiled gently at Alistair. You probably have a family somewhere that is desperate to find you. But we can’t send you anywhere until we figure out how to unbind you from Seneca. You’re tied to her by magic, so if you were to be separated now, before we unbind you, well, it could be bad for you. It might hurt you or keep you from regaining your own magic.

I’m a wizard? Alistair sounded uncertain. I think I am a wizard. That sounds right. Do I still have my magic?

Oh, yes, I’m sure you do, Eliza reassured him. But you probably can’t access it because of this damned binding spell. She blushed. Apologies for swearing, dears, but it makes me angry to no end that someone could do this to two young people and never tell either one of them. Both of you could have been hurt very badly by this magic. It was irresponsible and reprehensible. I’d like to find your father and give him a piece of my mind, she said to Seneca.

You and me both, Seneca retorted. She turned her attention back to Alistair, who was scratching at the back of his neck with his hand. I guess I need to get you some clothes. I don’t suppose you know what size you are?

He stopped scratching and blushed. I haven’t been shopping in a while, he replied.

I guess not, Seneca put a fingertip to her lips as she considered the best way to clothe him. Could we use a glamour, just for now?

I wouldn’t recommend it, not yet. The remnants of that spell are still hanging onto him. Once they’re gone, maybe, but you might as well just go and buy him something before then. It could take hours or even a day or more for the last of that spell to be fully gone. You should bathe in saltwater and sage to help clear away the old magic. She smiled at Alistair. Whoever you are, we will make sure we get you all sorted out, won’t we, Seneca?

The blonde witch nodded, distracted by Alistair’s hands as he prodded his ears and face once again. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, she said apologetically. If there is anything you need, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.

He nodded, then jumped as Seneca’s cell phone began to ring.

It’s Oliver. Maybe I should let it go to voicemail. She stared at the phone. She wasn’t sure she was ready to tell anyone about Alistair, not just yet.

I think you’d better answer it, Eliza warned. He might be able to help you with the clothing situation.

Seneca answered the call with a sigh. Hello, Oliver?

She listened for a moment as Oliver spoke in a quiet rush, his words coming through the phone in a steady stream. When he finally stopped talking, she took a deep breath and replied. I think you’d better get to my house as soon as possible. And can you tell your uncle that I need him, too? She waited for his reply, then thanked him and ended the call.

Everything alright, dear? Eliza pulled a stethoscope from her bag and placed the circular end against Alistair’s forehead. I can’t hear anything unusual in there, she murmured.

No, everything is not alright. Oliver just told me that Mr. Casselman is dead. He was released from prison the day before yesterday and his body was found at his home this morning. He’d been killed, murdered, that’s what Oliver said.

Eliza let out a little gasp. Your father’s partner?

Seneca nodded. Ex-partner. He served his sentence, did his time, and now he’s dead. She put her hand to her eyes,