From Rags to Witches: Magic and Mayhem Universe: Immortality Bites, #8.5

By Michelle Rowen

Vampires and witches and (super cute) magical shoes. Oh my!

After months on the road assisting my tall, dark, and fangsome husband Thierry, who's currently a consultant with the vampire council, we've solved a bunch of mysteries and narrowly averted disaster at every turn. Now, I'm seriously in need of a vacation somewhere with plenty of palm trees and B-positive cocktails. But apparently, there's no rest for the wicked.

Thierry's next assignment is to head to West Virginia to a town called Assjacket (yes, seriously) to convince the wandering wife of a council leader to go directly back to her man, do not pass go. Sounds simple, right? But when Thierry gets swept off by the boss-witch Baba Yaga for an official tour of this paranormal paradise, I'm left to keep an eye on the runaway wife in question—one whose warlock boyfriend may be romancing her as part of his plan to destroy the vampire council…starting with Thierry himself.

What follows is every bit as wacky as Assjacket's name, including an impromptu supernatural shopping spree, enchanted high heels, and a magical spell that has me desperately seeking help from a trio of chatty cat familiars. It's going to be a race of good versus evil to save Thierry, defeat an evil warlock, and keep myself from going seriously batty in the process.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michelle Rowen
• Release date: Jun 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201770914

Michelle Rowen

Michelle Rowen is an award-winning, national bestselling author of paranormal books for both teens and adults. She lives in Southern Ontario. Visit www.michellerowen.com for more information about Michelle and her books.

Book preview

1

Iblame the shoes for everything.

To be fair, they were absolutely gorgeous, sparkling in the boutique window, beckoning to me like a pair of glittery designer-labeled sirens. For the last four months, I’d worn sensible footwear ninety percent of the time, as part of the extremely minimalist selection I’d toted with me on my travels.

Greetings, Sarah Dearly, I imagined the shoes cooing at me. Aren’t we lovely?

You certainly are, I agreed.

You want us, don’t you?

I sure do.

We’re on sale.

I love sales, I told them. And I love you.

We love you too!

Just as I reached for my credit card, I heard a familiar voice in my left ear.

Oh. My. Effing. God. Sarah! What are you doing here?

This exclamation was followed by a crushing embrace that I didn’t have time to defend myself against.

A wave of guilt immediately crashed over me as I wrenched my gaze away from the high-heeled sparkle to the face of my blonde best friend, Amy.

Amy, I said, hugging her back. It’s so good to see you.

I didn’t know you were back in Toronto. Why didn’t you call me? she demanded, her sky blue eyes sweeping over me from foot to fang. 

I’m sorry, I should have, I said. I know. But we’re only back in Toronto for a day, and then we’re off again.

I haven’t seen you in a million years!

It’s only been four months, I said carefully. 

"Well, it feels like a million years."

You’re right, it does, I agreed.

The last time I’d seen Amy, she’d been at the airport with her husband, jetting off to the other side of the country for a shiny new job. Unfortunately, it hadn’t worked out as incredibly as she’d hoped, and she’d decided to come back home less than a month later.

So you’re leaving tomorrow? she asked.

I nodded. Bright and early.

Where are you headed off to now? she asked.

Not sure yet. I half expected her to freak out on me for not making plans with her the moment I got back. I had planned to call her and maybe grab drinks tonight. But I’d slept twelve solid hours last night in my own bed, which was a fluffy oasis of luxury after spending months in hotel and motel rooms of varying degrees of comfort.

Amy nodded. Well, it sounds like you have time to at least have a coffee with me. Like, now. Now or never, right?

Sounds great, I agreed readily.

We headed to the closest coffeehouse and got a table in the corner with a good view of Bloor Street. Amy ordered drinks for us, and I was mildly surprised she got mine right.

Black coffee, no cream, no sugar for you, she said, placing the mug in front of me. And a Pumpkin Spice Latte for me, extra whip. Yum.

I eyed her drink with envy. Some vampires could tolerate human foods, but I wasn’t one of them like Amy was. Therefore, black coffee was my go-to hot drink for the rest of eternity. And one day, I hoped I’d actually get the taste for the bitter brew.

Tell me everything that’s going on with you, I said to her.

Amy shook her head. You first. You’re the one with the jet-setting, millionaire lifestyle now.

I literally snorted out loud at that. Hardly.

Amy dunked her finger into the whipped cream crowning her coffee, and licked it thoughtfully. I guess I don’t really understand. If Thierry’s the one who’s a consultant for the Ring, why do you have to travel with him all the time? Sorry, I guess I just miss you.

I reached over to grab her hand. I miss you too. And I…I don’t have to. I mean, I don’t have to do anything. But I want to. Thierry’s job for the vampire council is to deal with vampire issues, making sure they don’t escalate into something really messy. And I help him whenever and however I can.

Her eyes widened. Messy, how? You mean, dangerous?

I chewed my bottom lip as I considered how much I wanted to share with her. About the vampires, ghosts, witches, demons, and other supernatural things that go bump—and sometimes thud—in the night. And, quite often, also in the day.

I waved a hand. You know, just bureaucratic stuff. Nothing really dangerous.

Her expression relaxed. That sounds incredibly boring.

It is, I lied. So very boring. 

A long silence fell between us, and I watched as a shadow fell over Amy’s previously bright expression. By the way, I’m furious with you, she said.

Damn. I knew this was coming. Why?

Her eyes narrowed. How could you get married without me by your side? Especially in Las Vegas! You know that’s always been my dream.

This was true. For all the years I’d known Amy, she’d had a dream of the tackiest, most extravagant wedding in history. With extra feathers and a gigantic bucketful of sequins and rhinestones thrown into the mix.

Was your dream being by my side at my wedding or getting married by an Elvis impersonator? I tried to quip.

Her suddenly steely glare said it all.

I cringed and spread my hands. I’m sorry. It happened. It was the right time and the right place—mostly, anyway. And no one else was there other than Thierry and me.

Amy’s glare didn’t dissipate. It’s because I don’t really like him, right?

I finally returned the expression with a glare of my own. No. But I can’t say that didn’t cross my mind. I know you don’t totally approve of him even after all this time.

I can’t help it. He’s too old for you. By, like, six centuries. And he’s too grumpy and serious. And he’s already married!

Divorced, I corrected.

She shrugged. They were married for a million years.

Not a million, I grumbled. A million years seemed to be Amy’s go-to measure of time today. And this was far from my favorite topic. Yes, Thierry had been married to his sire Veronique, an absolutely gorgeous vampire, for about six centuries. It was a loveless marriage of convenience and many misunderstandings and infidelities (mostly on her part). Which was the super short version, of course, but still 100-percent true. For the record, I actually considered Veronique a friend now, even if she was a handful-and-a-half of drama.

Amy sighed. Ever since you met Thierry last year, you’ve lost, like, half of your delightful, whimsical personality.

I bristled. I am just as delightful and whimsical as I ever have been. And FYI, your husband isn’t much younger than Thierry.

She raised her chin. We’re not married anymore.

For a moment, I was sure I’d heard her wrong. Wait, what? You and Barry… you’re separated?

Divorced, actually, Amy said bluntly. It was a mutual decision two months ago.

It took me a moment to compose myself. Barry and Amy had been a lust-at-first-sight thing and gotten married at the speed of light, throwing out the term soulmate like romantic confetti. He’d sired her on their first date, which I was still pissed off about. I mean, most civilized people waited until the third date before making any literally life-altering decisions, didn’t they? 

My sire had been a blind date from hell who hadn’t even asked if I wanted to be a vampire before he single-handedly upended my entire life. And then he’d had the audacity to get himself killed by vampire hunters literally five minutes later.

The jerk.

May he rest in peace.

Five minutes after that, I’d met the tall, dark, and devastatingly delicious Thierry de Bennicoeur, who’d (extremely reluctantly at first) helped me navigate my dangerous new world before I’d fallen head over fangs for him.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

Oh, my God, Amy. I’m so sorry. Sure, there had been