Witch Out of Luck: Magic and Mayhem Universe: Kracken's Hole, #3

By J. Thompson

Isabeau Dragonsong Moonchild craved adventure.

It was her job for the Ambustio Coven, and burying herself in it helped her to forget the loneliness that plagued her.

Even Bas, her smart-mouthed familiar, couldn't fill the void that was slowly eating her up.

Until Kracken's Hole.

Isabeau never counted on being sent there, and had no idea she'd find the only thing she had always longed for…family.

When a new threat comes knocking at Kracken's Hole, Isabeau needs to save her newfound life, or risk going down in a blaze of glitter and cursing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J Thompson
• Release date: Jun 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201977276

J. Thompson

J. Thompson is a USA Today Bestselling Author of Paranormal and Sci-Fi romance and a major fan of procrastination. Jenn has always loved history, so using her wild imagination and tying in her love of history and fantasy, she began a new adventure into the world of words. Weaving romance into old worlds and giving life to her mythical inspired novels is what Jenn does best, and she has a lot more planned in the future, including some hard assed demons. When she isn't bent over her laptop with the crazy writer eyes, you will find Jenn making jewellery, cross stitching and it doing paper crafts. Jenn is also an avid lover old skool skills like archery and sword fighting. Maybe a touch nuts Jenn is an author who believes wholeheartedly that people are good and that everyone deserves romance - even Hades. Keep up to date by checking out https://jthompsonauthor.com/

Book preview

1

Isabeau let rip the sigh that had been wanting out for the past half an hour. The sound echoed across the dark tomb, making it twice as loud as the original noise. Here she was, trapped in the bowels of an Incan ruin, yet she felt no fear, no hurry to get out. In fact, she liked the quiet of what being trapped beneath tonnes of stone offered. 

No one to ask stupid questions. No one to second guess her decisions or make her feel like she didn’t know what she was doing. No one to make her feel less than the kick-arse witch she was. 

As the world’s leading relic hunter, Isabeau was also a member of the Ambustio Coven. She prided herself on her skills to locate and collect ancient relics that, if left in a human's hand, could and would cause apocalyptic repercussions. 

Humans couldn't handle anything different. Aliens: they wanted to dissect them. Witches: they hanged them. And anything that had a button that read, Do Not Press... well, they pressed it. 

It was a miracle they had made it this far without blowing the world to pieces. 

So, her job was to locate and collect anything that was classed as ‘high risk’ to the humans and even the paranormal population. Isabeau enjoyed it. It’s what she was good at. She loved skulking about in old ruins and tunnels, getting her hands dirty and setting off a few booby traps along the way.

Yet, she’d never had a partner— well, other than Bas. That furry git was more like an extra limb than a partner. Where she went, he went. Only this time, she had made a mistake. 

The bloke she had trusted— as Bas put it, to go into her Cave of Wonders— had, at the opportune moment, shown what a world class Twatwaffle he really was. 

It was funny really; all that lying and bullshitting over a diamond. Isabeau snorted, lifted her arm, and placed it behind her head, getting comfy on the stone sarcophagus. She watched as the ceiling twinkled, the gemstones placed perfectly to represent the night sky as it had been over two thousand years before.

The diamond wasn't what she had been sent to retrieve. Only she and Bas had known their true purpose. The diamond was supposed to be the bonus prize.

Their mission to the ancient temple had been relatively simple: locate the diamond, which would tell them they were in the correct set of ruins to collect an old Inca calendar. Unlike a modern-day calendar, this one marked the times of sacrifice needed to ward off the end of days. The Mayans did this too. Only, the humans had found that one and luckily rendered it useless with their fanny-arsing about. 

This Incan calendar was different. After all, the Incas themselves were scary sons of bitches. Somehow, they had mastered the ancient magics and created a tool that, if turned on, could wipe out millions. An ancient bomb, to put it bluntly.

Isabeau had been sent to retrieve it and get it back to the coven, so it could be destroyed.

She sighed again and continued to watch the twinkling of the gems. That was why being trapped in the tomb didn't bother her. She still had a job to do and being trapped beneath stone was nothing. She was a witch, after all. 

Hell, she had been trapped in a cave, under the ocean, with the water slowly seeping in, and still she had just sat, chilled out, and had a snack, before she vamooshed out of there. 

If you keep sodding sighing, I’m going to poke you in the eyeball, Bas’s accented voice called over from the corner of the tomb, the Dorset tones rebounding off the walls.

I’m thinking, she answered, and fought the need to sigh again, because she didn’t need a poke in the eye. When Bas made threats, he always delivered. 

Be bloody careful with that shit. You know it’s dangerous, Bas cracked, then snorted. 

Ha, ha, you’re fucking hilarious, Isabeau snapped back and pushed up from the stone. She could see his tail, but that was it. Bas took pride in his tail. The little twat even used her conditioner on it, saying the jobs they did made it too dry. His tail had a better care routine than her whole body did, and didn't that just make her feel all womanly— the fact a squirrel took better care of itself than she did.

But that was beside the point.

His head bobbed up from beyond that bulk of a tail to eyeball her. You finished sighing? 

Shut up, Bas. You found anything? she asked, as she hopped down from the sarcophagus. It stood at a good six feet from ground to top and probably weighed more than a Boeing 747.

I’m still digging, but my nose is telling me it's here, he admitted, excitement tinging his tone. 

The fact you can smell artifacts is more than a little creepy, Bas. She moved to sit next to where he was digging on the floor. 

I smell the power, not the thing, he corrected, his voice muffled as his small head vanished into the hole he had started. Inside, Isabeau winced. Because he was almost arse deep in dirt, he would demand a bath. She almost groaned. A dirty squirrel was not what a girl needed to take home. 

Ooooh, ya little ripper, Bas called out, and then shouted, Got it, before he started to shuffle back, his arse leading the way in a magnificent display of brown tail and fur. When he appeared, in his tiny hands was a box, only about a foot long and half a foot wide. 

I expected bigger, she stated as she took the box from Bas.

You say that to all the boys. Bas snorted before he started to rub himself free of dirt, then complained, Oh, my poor fur. See, this is not on, Izzy. We do these jobs and I’m the one who gets dirty. 

Ignoring his rant— which was the norm for him— Isabeau stared at the box. Simple in design, it had only one symbol on the lid. One she didn't recognise. She wanted to open it; the relic hunter within was desperate to see what was inside. Even she could feel the power that pulsed from within. 

She would have to wait, take it back to the coven, and let them help with whatever cataclysmic bomb lay inside. 

We need to get this home, Bas, she stated, and stood. Moving over to her gear, she found her backpack and slid the box inside. Let’s get this home and let the coven deal with it. The power it's emitting gives me the willies. 

Willies… hahaha, Bas answered, making her roll her eyes. 

Childish much? 

Bitchy much? was the squirrel’s retort, as he hopped closer and back up onto the stone wall, where their gear was stored. Growling, he kicked at another box. More importantly, the one that had dropped on them from out of nowhere earlier. The one that had an obscene amount of glitter come from it and whatever dimension it had appeared from.

What about this? 

What about it? Instead of making eye contact, she focused on packing and figuring out how to grab some of the gems from the ceiling. She wanted the sparklies. 

You need to address it. Bas’s voice had grown soft. You need to—

Go to a town I've never heard of all because my mother is mentioned? she snapped. Her mother was a delicate subject. A very delicate subject, considering she had never known the witch and had been left with the Ambustio Coven at a young age, never to hear from her again. She didn't even know if the woman was alive. She had been told she had no other family.

That she was completely alone in the world. 

And boy had she felt it. If it hadn't been for Bas, she would have struggled. But the little shit had helped her come out of her shell, master her skills, and be the stonking witch everyone saw. 

You need answers, Izzy, and this place, Kracken’s Hole, may have them.

Isabeau sighed again, only this time, instead of the poke in the eye she expected, she found herself with an armful of squirrel. 

We have to deal with the calendar first.