Dawning Magic

By Niki Contreras

Witches are not real. At least, that’s what seventeen-year-old Rory Davidson has always believed. But when tragedy forces her to the paranormal capital of the United States, everything she knows is called into question. New Orleans seems eccentric at first, but Rory soon discovers that it is more than voodoo dolls for tourists. Magic flows freely and when strange things start happening to her, she must accept the fact that witches are in fact real, and she is one of them. With the help of the gorgeous boy from school and an over-the-top shopkeeper, she may yet learn to control her power.But something Dark is brewing in the heart of the Crescent City and she doesn’t know who she can truly trust. An ancient evil and a powerful curse threaten. Now, Rory must make peace with her past because she may be the only one strong enough to save New Orleans.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Niki Contreras
• Release date: Nov 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005097516

Niki Contreras

I live in sunny Arizona. I am currently attending school to earn a degree in business management. Mistletoe Kiss is my first full-length published work but there is more still to come!To find out more about me and any upcoming email at [e-mail]!If you don't already know, all of my books on here are FREE for the month of July. If you enjoy any of my books (or any others you get during this Summer Sale), don't forget to leave a review on Goodreads, twitter, or Facebook. Feedback is so helpful for self-published authors like myself. Thanks and happy reading!

Book preview

It was warmer than Rory expected when she stepped out of the airport. It had already started snowing back home in Oregon, but here, she was practically sweating in her gray peacoat and knit scarf. The humidity trapped in the pickup tunnel didn't help. She sighed as she unwound the scarf from her neck, stuffing it into her blue carry-on bag. The jacket came off next, which she kept draped over her arm. She stepped up to the curb and glanced at the line of waiting cars, ready to relax after traveling all day.

Where's Aunt Kathleen? Celeste's melodic voice demanded. Rory glanced sideways at her younger sister and frowned. Celeste’s dark jeans hugged her long legs and the sleeveless white peplum top overly-accentuated her chest. Her short blonde hair fell in easy waves around her face, which was half-covered by a pair of oversized sunglasses. She looked like she’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine, despite being only fourteen. Rory could just imagine the lecture their mother would give Celeste for trying to grow up so fast. It was always a hot topic that ended with their mother pulling out Celeste’s baby photos and lamenting lost time.

Rory quickly shut down all thoughts of her mom. It had only been a week since the accident that had left her and Celeste alone; the pain was still too raw. Getting ready for this move to New Orleans had been enough to occupy her mind for the last few days, but now...

She bit back the sudden wave of tears and focused on Celeste’s question. I'm not sure. I told her that our plane was landing at six, so she should be here. Do you want to call her? My phone's at the bottom of my bag.

Celeste's dark blue eyes narrowed infinitesimally, and Rory had to fight back her own eye roll. Celeste was turning into a surly teenager, and all the changes in their lives weren't helping things. But it's not like Rory was inconveniencing her; her cell had been glued to her hand since the plane had touched down twenty minutes ago. With another petulant look, Celeste's fingers flew over the screen before she brought it up to her ear. 

They waited.

She didn't answer.

She's probably driving. She should be here soon.

Soon, it turned out was thirty-five minutes and two more unsuccessful calls later. Rory had been considering the safety of a cab when the pale pink VW bug pulled up to the curb. Rory eyed it, and then their suitcases. The trunk might be able to fit hers, but no way would it hold all of Celeste's luggage. She groaned. A cab might have been better.

Well? Let's go, Aunt Kathleen snapped impatiently, as if she'd been the one waiting. 

Celeste glared at the tiny car and its driver. Rory tugged the handle on her bag and wheeled it up to the trunk before her sister could say anything to Aunt Kathleen. They weren’t close with their aunt, but she was the only family they had left, so Rory wanted to make sure that everyone played nice, especially if they were going to be with her for a while. 

Rory did most of the work and it took the better part of five minutes to fit everything in. Most of Celeste's bags took up the back seat, which Rory took. The wheels of one of Celeste's bags dug into Rory's side, but she ignored it as the bright pink bug finally pulled out of the airport. She stared out the window and watched the scenery go by. Extravagant cemeteries and church spires dotted the landscape and the Superdome loomed in the distance. Rory had expected swamps and brick buildings with wrought iron balconies, but it looked like any other city as they drove along the freeway. 

A shiver raced down her spine. Something about the place had knots forming in Rory's stomach, an uncomfortable sense of anxiety. Maybe it was just that she was new to town. She'd get over that nervous feeling in her gut soon enough. She swallowed back the feeling of dread and watched more of the city fly by her window for the remainder of the tense car ride. 

The house that Aunt Kathleen pulled into was small and almost rundown. Most of the surrounding houses looked to be in various stages of disrepair. The lot across the street was overgrown with tall weeds, probably empty since Katrina. Rory knew that some neighborhoods had never recovered, and while that made her sad, she wouldn’t have pictured her aunt living in this kind of area. Her hunter green pant suit and perfectly coiffed chestnut hair screamed money, but her home didn’t reflect that. 

Your rooms are going to be upstairs. Get everything out of my car and then I have to go.

Rory climbed from the cramped back seat and stretched. Okay, thanks Aunt Kathleen. How long do you think you’ll be gone?

Aunt Kathleen raised her brows, the already high arches almost disappearing into her hairline. I don’t know, whenever I get back.

Celeste shoved her thick blonde hair, a couple of shades darker than Rory’s golden tresses, away from her shoulder. So that’s it?

Aunt Kathleen narrowed her hazel eyes and made an impatient noise in the back of her throat. She leaned onto the roof of the bug and crossed her arms. What else do you two want?

A tension headache started to pound in Rory’s temples. She pressed her fingertips to her forehead in an attempt to ward it off, but she knew it was useless. The headaches had been getting more frequent since her mom’s accident and only sleep would get rid of it. Unpack first and then she could nap.

We’ll unload right now and put things away while you’re gone. I’ll make something for dinner tonight. Do you want us to save you some?

Aunt Kathleen’s thin, pink lips puckered. Just do whatever you want. I’ll see you later, or something.

Rory furrowed her brows. Aunt Kathleen had always been distant with them, but Rory had thought her sister’s death would have softened her up a bit. Dismayed, she turned back to the tiny car and started pulling out bags. Her sister huffed before doing the same. 

Celeste growled and plopped into a chair an hour later. Rory looked up from the pantry. Celeste glowered at the wall with her arms crossed over her chest and her mouth pulled into a pout. This sucks, Rory. That room is so damn small none of my stuff even fits. And there’s nowhere in the bathroom for my makeup. How am I going to get ready in the mornings?

The tension headache that had faded while Rory chose a room and started to unpack was back in full force. She didn’t disagree with Celeste, but she was trying to make the most of what they had to work with. She’d spent the last hour trying to put laundry away and make the cold, dreary room more welcoming. It needed some paint to make the gray-tinged walls cheery, and some air freshener would help get rid of the musty smell. But still, it didn’t feel like it would ever be home. I know. It’s going to take some getting used to.

Celeste exploded out of the chair. It squealed across the tile and crashed into the wall behind her. "Take some getting used to? Rory, our mom just died. Our lives were uprooted, and Aunt Kathleen doesn’t even care enough to be here. How will we get used to that?"

The headache spread down to the base of Rory’s skull. No, Aunt Kathleen didn’t seem to care. She hadn’t even cared enough to go to the funeral. Rory and Celeste hadn’t seen their aunt often growing up, but she and their mother had always seemed like such opposites. It was hard for Rory to understand how their mom, a happy, vibrant, loving woman could be sisters with such a cold, dismissive hag. And now they were stuck with her. Tears burned the backs of her eyes and her throat felt like it was closing. She couldn’t breathe. I don’t know, she managed to croak, but we have to.

Celeste sniffled and wiped under her eyes, catching any tears before they could fall. Rory pulled her sister into her arms and Celeste collapsed into her. A shuddering breath shook her shoulders and Rory could feel the tears seeping into her shirt. It’s not fair, Rory! It’s not fair. 

It was close to midnight and Rory couldn’t sleep. A spring from the ancient mattress dug into her side. She tossed over, the bed squeaking in protest. The creaking of the house and hum of the water heater played a symphony in the darkness. She was exhausted from traveling, but Celeste’s words still rang out in her mind to keep her awake. It’s not fair. No, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that some stupid drunk driver had plowed right through her mom. It wasn’t fair that she’d died, sprawled out in that crosswalk. It wasn’t fair that she was gone, and that Rory and Celeste were left alone. None of it was fair. But since when had life ever been fair? 

Tears sprang unbidden into her bright blue eyes. She had tried so hard to be strong, but memories of her mom and of saying goodbye made her break down. Her mother had been her lifeline in the chaos of her life, her compass to navigate any issues, her source for advice and unconditional love. And now she was gone. Silent sobs wracked her body until she could barely breathe. All she could do was wait for sleep to overtake her and hope that her dreams were more peaceful than her waking moments.

~~~

Rory was still tired when she pried her eyelids open the next morning. The unfamiliar room closed in around her and it took a minute before she remembered where she was. Her back hurt and all of her joints cranked when she stretched. The hard bed hadn't been the most conducive to a good night's sleep. Plus, damn time zones had screwed up her internal clock. She felt more tired than she had when she went to bed.  

The thin carpet gave little cushion as Rory shuffled down the stairs in her turquoise slippers. The rest of the house was still quiet. Maybe she could cook up a quick breakfast for everyone to start the morning on the right foot. She had seen some eggs in the refrigerator last night and hopefully they were still good. It shouldn't be too hard to make some omelets. Then maybe Aunt Kathleen could take them grocery shopping later. It would give them a chance to bond with her. Rory started compiling a list of necessities in her head as she pulled the long layers of her hair into a ponytail and got to work on breakfast.

Celeste didn't look any more rested than Rory when she made her appearance. Her hair was a dirty- blonde tumbleweed and her eyes were bloodshot. She made a beeline to the fresh coffee and pulled in a lungful of the warm scent before going to the table to sip it. She still had on her little flannel shorts and black tank top and shivered when the tops of her thighs hit the cold chair. Rory watched her for just a second. Celeste would never go out in public looking like that, but it was nice to see the young girl Rory remembered make an appearance over the supermodel wannabe. She smiled, despite everything, to see her sister without the mask she showed to everyone else. 

Aunt Kathleen came in just as Rory turned off the stove. She looked much more put together. She wore another pant suit, this one navy with a black blouse and royal blue silk scarf. Her hair was curled and pinned back so that the yellow streaks shone in the light. In all honesty, she looked like a flight attendant. Rory wasn’t sure what their aunt did for a living, but she doubted that was it. 

Morning, Celeste yawned, adding salt to her scrambled eggs. 

Yes, good morning. The words sounded forced, like their aunt wasn't used to saying them. She'd lived alone for a while, but that didn't explain why she would have trouble with such a simple greeting. 

I didn't know how you like your eggs, so I just scrambled the whole batch. I was thinking that we could go to the store later to get some stuff.

Aunt Kathleen frowned a bit. I guess. She glanced down at the thin gold watch around her wrist. We’ll have to make this quick, though, because I have a meeting this morning. Let's go.

Celeste's wide eyes looked up, her mouth half full. But...

Rory interrupted, Just finish up and throw something on. You don't have to look great. We're just going to the grocery store, CC.

A small smile touched the corner of her little sister's lips for the first time in days. It turned bittersweet. I hate that Mom let you call me that.

Rory’s answering smile was equally tinged with sadness. She was too young to remember when her sister was born, but she remembered how hard it had been to say Celeste. It had been their father that had suggested the nickname. It was one of the few memories that Rory had of him before he’d left them. The nickname had stuck around long after he had gone. And now, their mother was gone, too. 

She cleared her throat and pushed away from the table, dropping her dishes in the sink. She didn't want to give in to the tears so the best thing to do was move, just like she'd been doing since the cops showed up at their door. Staying busy kept the pain at bay. Rory raced up the stairs to her new room and leaned against the wall. She took in the small space. There was a six-drawer dresser, twin bed with her purple bed set, and a desk, all mismatched. The sliding doors to the closet where she'd shoved her suitcase was closed. It smelled musty, neglected, like no one had bothered to visit since the house had been built. Nothing about this place felt like home and Rory had to fight to stay standing. 

Right, she muttered shakily, time to get dressed.

Most of the clothes she brought with her were more suited for cold weather; everything else was still on the way. She chewed on her full bottom lip before deciding on a pair of black yoga pants and a pale-yellow V-neck sweater. She pulled the elastic from her hair and brushed through the straight strands. When she got to the bathroom to brush her teeth, she saw that it was already strewn with the small collection of makeup their mother had allowed Celeste to have. Rory frowned. Why her little sister needed makeup was beyond her. She piled it at the edge of the sink and finished up her morning routine. 

The closest store was half a mile away. Rory memorized the route so that next time they wouldn't have to wait for Aunt Kathleen. It was an average-sized store and Rory took a minute when she walked in to familiarize herself with the layout. Back in Bend, she knew the Fry's Foods so well that she could walk right to whatever aisle she needed. Today her goal was to fill the kitchen and get a sense of where each department was. She'd learn the shelves in time. 

So, what do you two even eat?

Rory and Celeste looked at each other. Rory almost felt sorry that her aunt had become an instant mom, but there had to be at least a small degree of common sense; it’s not like they ate radically differently from anyone else. We're not too picky. And I can cook, too, so we can always make something work.

So...?

Celeste rolled her eyes skyward and grabbed a cart. We'll go find everything and just meet you at the registers. Rory, divide and conquer?

Rory grabbed a sanitize wipe and cleaned the handle of her own cart. Yep. I'll start to the left. You go right; it looks like produce is over there. We'll meet up in the middle then come back up front. Any requests, Aunt Kathleen?

Yeah, hurry up. She pulled out her phone and her fingers started flying. The tiny clicks of her keyboard sounded in rapid succession.

Celeste turned her shopping cart quickly, her white sundress dancing around her knees. Rory smashed her lips together to hold back the tart reply on the tip of her tongue and went toward the far end of the store. She was trying to make things easier for her aunt, but it seemed like nothing could please the woman. And if she was honest with herself, Aunt Kathleen kind of made her uncomfortable. Rory couldn't put her finger on it, but her nerves seemed to be in fight or flight mode around her. Even now she could feel the tension leaving her shoulders the further she got. 

She was nearing the halfway point with her full basket when a shiver raced down her back. Her head shot up and she looked around, but there was no one else in the aisle with her. Get a grip, she told herself, turning her attention back to the can of spaghetti sauce in her hand. She knew there wasn't much time before Aunt Kathleen’s patience ran out, so she wanted to be quick. She tossed it in and the can clattered in her basket. She only made it a few steps before that eerie sensation of being watched crept up her spine again. She froze. Something wasn’t right. The air felt thick, heavy, and the world around her seemed to hold its breath.

The shelf to her left creaked and her gaze snapped to it. It wobbled dangerously and like a bad wreck, all she could do was watch as it swayed toward her. Heavy soup and sauce cans started to crash to the floor, reminding her too much of blood as they spilled on the concrete floor. Rory knew she needed to move before she was caught in the middle of the avalanche- how embarrassing would that be, death by can?- but she was completely frozen. Instinct screamed at her to protect herself, so Rory threw her hands up and shielded her head. She could handle bruises along her arms better than a concussion. Hopefully, she could get through this relatively unscathed. Her eyes squeezed shut.

Rory waited for the pain. The clattering made her ears ring and she could feel the liquid soaking into her white sneakers, but she wasn’t getting bombarded by flying canned food.

Rory! Celeste screeched.

Rory’s blue eyes opened. People had congregated on both ends of the aisle. They looked stunned and she finally let herself take in her immediate surroundings. Dented cans littered the floor around her, most spilling their contents. It was a miracle that she hadn't been buried alive by them, but now that she looked at it, a small circle around her had been spared. Everywhere but where she stood was a disaster 

Confused, Rory looked up to find her sister and aunt staring with everyone else. Celeste looked worried and someone that looked to be a store manager was making sure she didn’t wade into the mess. Aunt Kathleen, for her part, simply looked calculating. 

CHAPTER 2

It had been almost twenty-four hours since the grocery store incident and Rory still couldn’t shake the strange feeling she got whenever she thought about it. How had she come through completely unharmed? She should have been sporting some ugly cuts and bruises at the very least, but the stains on her shoes had been the worst of it. 

She leaned back against the headrest in the back of the Uber driver’s Toyota. She knew that she needed to let it go and try to enjoy spending the day with Celeste. They didn’t start school for a week, so now was as good a time as any to get used to their new surroundings. There was so much history tied in New Orleans. This could be fun. She just had to stop thinking about the weirdness that had happened at the store and the nervous feeling it caused in her belly.

Wow! Celeste exclaimed. "It’s just like on TV. This is what I thought New Orleans would look like. This is so cool."

Rory leaned toward her sister and looked out the left side window and gasped. The stout brick buildings were so vibrant and colorful. Every building had balconies on each level with intricate wrought-iron rails. Flags and beads hung from rails, poles, and telephone lines. The streets buzzed with activity and music poured out of the buildings. It really was like in the movies. 

You girls new here? the driver asked. She was probably in her mid-twenties with bright pink streaks in her pitch-black hair. She smiled kindly at them in her rear-view mirror as she pulled to a stop.

Yeah, just moved here a couple of days ago. Do you have any recommendations?

The girl seemed to think about it for a second, a small furrow pinching between her dark brows. It depends on what you’re looking for. I like the Garden District and Lafayette Cemetery. The Ninth Ward is sort of sad, same with the WW2 Memorial. Um. If you’re into supernatural then here’s the best place to check out. The closer you get to Bourbon Street, the more bars take over, but Decatur’s got some amazing food.

Her excitement was contagious, and Rory grinned. She got out of the car with her first real smile in a week. The car drove off and the girls ventured into the heart of the French Quarter. The streets were narrow, more like alleyways than actual roads, and crowded with all types of people. Just as the driver had said, Bourbon Street and the blocks closest to it were filled with bars and Rory was amazed to see people walking around with open drinks and tall icees that she knew were spiked. They didn’t seem to have a care in the world. 

Celeste’s phone was in her hand in an instant. She spun in circles, commentating on everything. Celeste said she was adding everything to her SnapChat story when Rory was dumb enough to ask. Her thousand or so friends would be eating this stuff up. Even watching the stream would be more interesting than whatever they were up to in Bend, Oregon. 

Oh, look! A voodoo shop! What do you say, Snap? Should we go in? She paused and Rory wasn’t sure if she was actually taking a poll; she usually forgot she had an account so she didn't know what functions it had. I’ll take that as a yes!

She skipped into the tiny shop and Rory reluctantly followed her inside. The store was made up of what looked like three rooms. The one that they stood in was a small square with a cash register to the right, a curtain to the left separating the next room, dried herbs and knick-knacks hanging along the walls, and a doorway straight ahead. Light jazz music played from invisible speakers. Rory didn’t see anyone, but the place was much brighter than she would have guessed for a voodoo shop, though the scent of incense burned her nose. 

The curtain fluttered open and a petite woman stepped out. Her clear, blue-green eyes narrowed as she regarded the sisters. Rory shuffled uneasily, as if the woman was staring into her very soul. She was probably around thirty with a few small frown lines between her dark eyebrows. Her dark purple hair was braided over one shoulder and decorated with what looked like rose buds. She didn’t appear threatening with her five-foot stature and layered brown dress, but Rory was pretty sure that she didn’t want to mess with this woman. 

Can I help you ladies? Her voice was soft and high, like wind chimes. The shopkeeper focused on Rory and didn’t seem in any hurry to break the connection. Rory was almost mesmerized.

Um, no thank you. We’re just looking.

This stuff’s neat.

Finally, those intense aqua eyes pulled away to study Celeste and a small smile touched her indigo-painted lips. Yes, it is.

Do you have voodoo dolls? Like, can I curse people? Or make boys bow down to me?

Rory groaned, but the other woman simply smiled wider. That’s not how it works, baby. It's a religion. New Orleans voodoo is the result of African religion mixing with the French and Catholic cultures during that nasty period when slavery was a thing. The dolls roughly correlate with saints; each is a patron of something, and they are supposed to focus your spells, or prayers. It's all about intent, conviction, belief. It's about blessing more than cursing.

Celeste tilted her head. Huh. That doesn't seem as creepy as most people think.

Well, those same rules don't apply to witches, of course, the shopkeeper added with a wink, her gaze finding Rory again. Rory shifted. Something about this woman made her skin tingle, but she wasn't sure if it was fear or awe. Either way, Rory got the feeling that the woman knew more than she should.

Well, thanks for the history lesson.

She nodded, her purple braid dancing on her shoulder with the movement. Of course. If there's anything else you need, I'm Simone.

She drifted away and left them to look around. Celeste finally stopped recording and put her phone in the front pocket of her red romper. This is so cool.

Rory offered her a small smile. Yeah, it's pretty interesting.

Let's look around for a bit and then keep going. I'm getting hungry and I think we're getting close to Decatur Street.

Celeste nodded her agreement. They split up, Celeste looking at the different packs of spells while Rory ventured into the next room. The back area was larger than the front with tables full of what she assumed were supposed to be magic articles. Candles and sage sticks burned from their holders. Several boxes of quartz and crystals, all labeled with their supernatural properties, filled the large table running down the middle of the room. Cubby holes full of books lined all four walls and an alter of some kind sat in its own alcove by the emergency exit. 

Okay, this is kind of cool.

Rory wandered, running her thin fingers along the spines of the books. Most were about the history of New Orleans voodoo or old voodoo queens. A couple of them looked like they were spell books, but the publishers on the backs were more known for their fiction authors. She kept walking until she had gone full circle and was at the last shelf before she was back in the antechamber. These books were older than the others, with leather bindings and yellowed paper. She paused. Rory loved history, and she liked seeing books that had survived for so long. 

Her heart leaped as her fingertips connected with the withered spine of a large black tome. Warmth spread throughout her body, starting in her chest. There was a buzz throughout her entire being, as if the book begged for her attention. Carefully, she pulled it from its place on the shelf. There was nothing on the cover and the pages were handwritten on thin sheets of vellum. She thumbed through it gingerly. It looked like a journal. No, not a journal, a spell book. 

A soft cough startled her, but she couldn’t look away. Ah, that is a very special grimoire. A family of sister witches compiled it for their successor in 1600’s France. She was destined to be the most powerful of them all, capable of driving out the great evil that terrorized their kingdom.

What happened to her?

Her indigo lips pulled down in a frown and her clear eyes darkened. She died when she was still a child and never got to use the spells. Two sisters gave their lives for the girl, and it didn't even matter. She was killed too soon. This poor book has just been sitting on the shelf for the last four hundred years.

Oh, that’s so sad. Rory knew she needed to put the book back, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t force herself to let go. The grimoire, or whatever Simone called it, felt like it had been waiting for her. She knew it was crazy to feel that way and yet, she clutched the