Root Brew Float

By Sydney Winward

Josephine Brevil has lived hundreds of years haunted by the horrors she experienced during the Salem Witch Trials. She takes great care to hide her powers, though serving a Root Brew Float laced with a magic potion now and again never hurt anybody. The Order sends her to Massachusetts to deal with a paranormal threat, and she meets the young and handsome widower, Clarence Watts. However, being with him comes with a choice. How can she choose between the man she loves and the magic she holds dear?

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: May 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781509231423

Sydney Winward

Sydney Winward grew up in Utah where her active imagination ran away with her. She started writing at a young age and discovered her fantasies could come alive through words. She received a bachelor’s degree in English from the University of Utah, and when she’s not writing (or fawning over animals), she spends time with her husband and children.

Book preview

Inc.

"There’s a reason we’re inside the circle. Nothing can touch us in here. Now close your eyes and listen to my voice. She paused for a moment to take a deep breath, channeling the magic swirling within her core. Clarence Watts, our task here is to send your deceased wife into the afterlife, beyond the door and into the next realm. If you have done as I previously instructed, you have gotten rid of many of Heidi’s earthly belongings, which is a crucial step to letting her go. Now, imagine a rope that connects you to Heidi. Cut it and sever the tie."

It can’t be that simple.

It’s not. It’s symbolic of freeing her, but the act of letting go is another story altogether.

I’m not sure how I’m supposed to let her go.

Cling onto something else you care about. It usually helps.

His hands tightened around hers. She cracked her eyes open, her heart racing as she stared at their conjoined hands. The word home echoed in her mind again, and when she tried to push it away, it slammed back into her stronger than before.

Home is with the Order, she insisted.

Yet her pounding heart didn’t believe her.

Root Brew Float

by

Sydney Winward

One Scoop or Two

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Root Brew Float

COPYRIGHT © 2020 by Sydney Winward

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Abigail Owen

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Fantasy Rose Edition, 2020

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-3142-3

One Scoop or Two

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

To my son, Thomas,

for without him I would have had a sane mind

while writing this.

Chapter One

Witching hour—when night reached its prime.

Fog swirled and bounced unnaturally across the waterfront, the light shining from the full moon above casting shadows beneath the surface like sirens waiting to grab someone and pull them into its eerie depths. A silent stillness settled on the small town of Stockbridge, Massachusetts, waiting patiently for its newest arrival.

Josephine Brevil stood on a small boat ferrying her across the harbor. It rowed itself with a perfectly executed enchantment, small ripples disturbing the otherwise smooth water.

The town came within view, yellow lights dotting the landscape like stars woven into the summer night sky. When the ferry approached the dock, she stepped off in a smooth stride and surveyed her next assignment. Silence descended upon Stockbridge, the night owls finally asleep and the morning birds not yet awake.

She scooped her suitcase in one hand and fixed her floppy black sun hat before touching her broomstick necklace for reassurance. She hadn’t ridden her broomstick in far too many years in fear of getting caught. Several hundred years had passed since the horrors she had experienced during the Salem Witch Trials, but she didn’t want to take any chances, especially not with modern day technology.

Her suitcase wheels rolled against the pavement like thunder sweeping through a cloudy sky. Dogs barked as she passed houses, her familiar—a black cat named Jinx—trailing several paces behind completely undeterred by the yapping.

At last, they reached their destination. A lone porchlight illuminated the white shutters that bordered the windows. Two simple white railings stood on each side of the creaky wooden steps leading to the front door.

She knocked once—no answer.

She knocked twice—still no answer.

When she lifted her hand to knock a third time, a bleary-eyed woman opened the door, her silver hair in complete disarray. The old woman squinted as if unable to see well and wrapped her robe more securely around her shoulders. Josephine briefly wondered if she were mortal, if her long brown hair would shrivel into white threads, if her dark brown eyes would lose their luster and become murky like the woman’s.

What do you want? the woman growled. It’s three o’clock in the morning.

Exactly, Josephine smiled. Witching hour. No better time to make an appearance, I think.

The woman looked at her like she might be insane. Which she might. She hadn’t decided yet today, after all.

I suppose you want a place to stay, do you? the woman sighed.

This is a bed and breakfast, isn’t it?

She scowled and didn’t answer as she stepped aside to let Josephine in. The hall light allowed her to see photographs on each side of the wall of the lake at different times during the day. Sunset. Sunrise. During a rainstorm. A foggy morning.

They climbed the stairs until the woman opened a door at the end of the hallway and led her inside. The seashell wallpaper attested to the age of the building, not yet renovated to match modern styles, yet still in great condition.

She set her suitcase down on the bed, watching as the woman glared at the cat trotting inside but otherwise made no comment. Have you noticed anything strange or unusual happening in town? she asked.

Yes. You showing up at my doorstep in the infant hours of morning. She frowned when Jinx jumped up on the bed and draped herself across a lacy white pillow. Breakfast is at nine o’clock sharp. My name is Margaret if you need anything.

Judging by her sour expression, she did not want to be needed.

Is there anywhere I can get a job in town? she asked before Margaret had a chance to escape the room. If she was going to find the reason the Order sent her here, she needed to blend in as much as possible.

The old woman muttered under her breath, "I have better