The Alchemist of Silver Hollow: Magic of Arcana

By Ashley McLeo

Everyone said that Morgan LaVeau would return to Silver Hollow.

She swore to prove them wrong.

But as it turned out, they were right.

 

When the Alchemist of Silver Hollow dies an untimely death, danger descends on the town. As the only LaVeau with the Alchemist spark, Morgan must take up the mantle of protector.

It's a lifelong commitment, a vow to the Goddess, and it means returning to a place she vowed that she'd never call home again.

And worst of all, seeing a man she hoped to avoid for the rest of her life.

 

The Alchemist of Silver Hollow is a new adult paranormal romance novel, featuring a quirky magical town, a wacky witching family, a dangerous adventure, and a love story will make you swoon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Meraki Press
• Release date: Jan 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9781947245617

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The cheerful town sign, complete with daintily painted bluebells and daisies, made tears spring to my eyes. 

The wild LaVeau has returned to Silver Hollow, just like they all said she would. I shook my head as I crossed the invisible town wards. 

Were people still gossiping about me? So many had said I wouldn’t make it in the wider world. My teachers, one in particular, had always said that I was too free-spirited, too impulsive, too wild to make anything of myself outside the confines of this place. Like Silver Hollow was the only place that would put up with my shit. They always said I’d come running back to my hometown, seeking sanctuary and the stability that my family name provided.

They’d predicted right, but for the wrong reasons.

 My grip around the steering wheel tightened as emotion bubbled over inside me. Dammit, why didn’t this happen after Lanie came of age?! 

Intellectually, I knew I was being ridiculous—Aunt Hazel couldn’t have chosen the day that she died—but in this extreme case, I would cut myself some slack. My cousin, Lanie, had always talked of taking her mother’s position. Unlike her, I’d never wanted it. Too bad we don’t always get what we want. After today, I would be shackled to this town for the rest of my life.

Some might say that I was being dramatic, but they’d be dead wrong. My choice was serious and would affect others. It was either I come home or let the residents of Silver Hollow suffer. Who could live with the latter on their conscience? Heck, I couldn’t even do that to my worst enemies—in this case, my cutthroat, twenty-something professional colleagues who lived in New York. 

Laila and Sam were so happy to hear I was returning to my teensy, bumpkin town. I sighed, regretting the loss of my glittering career. It had just started to bud when I’d needed to abandon it. Figures.

At least I’ll never see those two again. There’s one upside, I muttered as I took a right on Witching Way. 

Why the road even needed a name was beyond me. Only those of the LaVeau witching clan lived on this street. Everyone in town knew that.

Familiar bits of forest flashed by. The leaves were already turning colors as summer marched into autumn. The eclectic art that my family liked to decorate the private street with cropped up piece by piece—a giant, iron penguin here, a tiny village suitable for pixies there. And in case anyone missed those art installments, Mom had recently added a purple and yellow she-shed decorated like a lemonade stand. The colors were eye-wateringly bright, but I had to admit that the damn thing was pretty adorable. 

I pulled up to the Victorian house and followed the circular drive. Once in a suitable spot, I parked and unfolded my long, leggy frame from the car. I shook out my slightly achy limbs as my gaze leveled on the old blue and gold home. 

The peak of the Alchemist’s tower was just visible over the front part of the roof. Tomorrow, that tower would become my workshop, and it would reveal the few nooks and crannies that Aunt Hazel had kept hidden from others to me.

A shiver darted up my spine. Although I’d rather be anywhere else, even I had to admit that getting to explore the workshop as I pleased was exciting. Heck, calling the tower ‘mine’ was even more exclusive than a Central-Park-facing condo in The Plaza. As it stood right now, I was the only one in the world who could claim that magical space. 

I grabbed my roller bag from the trunk but left the single box of sentimental items I’d packed. There would be plenty of time to pull it out later, and there wasn’t much in it anyhow. Before taking my cross-country trip, I’d shed most of my belongings. After all, stuff like designer shoes and handbags would be worthless here. Plus, my roommate had been all too happy to pay for them. At discounted rates, of course, but that was better than nothing. 

I made my way to the front steps. No one burst outside to welcome me, but that was no surprise. My mom and cousin were probably in the back garden. Too many times, we’d video called, and I’d spent the entire interaction gazing upon tomatoes and cucumbers, rather than their faces. 

When I got to the door, I found it was slightly ajar. For a moment, my heart stopped, but then I rolled my eyes. 

This isn’t New York. Mom probably forgot to shut the door days ago and hasn’t noticed.

I stepped inside and scanned the large, open rooms off the entryway. The aromas of sage and mint, Mom’s favorite herbs, hit my nose. I sighed as a bit of tension seeped from my shoulders.

Three months had passed since my brief visit home to see my aunt, and I searched for any changes Mom or Lanie might have forgotten to mention. The sweeping staircase I used to slide down looked the same. As did the grand living area that flowed into the dining room on the right. I kicked off my shoes, the floor creaking beneath me in an all-too-familiar tone. Even the lilac-colored mat collecting shoes next to the door was the same.

Everything looked the same, smelled the same, sounded the same, and felt the same. Everything except me. 

Morgan Star! You’re here! 

My mother, Carla LaVeau, appeared at the top of the staircase, dirt smeared across one high cheekbone. A clump of soil even clung to her dark, wavy hair. 

Called it. Totally gardening. 

Hey, Mom. My lips turned up in a smile. 

She bound down the stairs with the vitality of a woman thirty years her junior. I braced myself seconds before the impact. 

"Oomph!"

Mom collided with me and pulled me into a bear hug so tight that I could barely breathe. Little star! I’m so glad you’re home! 

Me too, Mom. Me too, I said, happy to see her even if I wasn’t telling the truth. 

What did it matter that I’d rather be anywhere else? I couldn’t live that life, so there was no use in pretending it was an option. The power in my blood dictated everything now. 

Mom released me, holding me at arm’s length as her lavender eyes raked over me. Her unusual eye color was the only bit of her I’d inherited. Well, besides my magic and the LaVeau name—a tradition in my stoutly matriarchal family. The rest of me looked much more like my father. 

Goddess, give him peace.

You’re too thin, Star, Mom tutted. And you know, I’m still not sure what to think about this mauve hair. With your eyes, it’s a touch too much, don’t you think? 

Before I could answer that I liked my purple hair, thank you very much, Mom was already on to the next thing, her sharp gaze piercing the house as if she could see through the wall. 

Where is your cousin? Lanie! Lanie Sage LaVeau, get in here! 

I smirked. Lanie hated when Mom used her middle name, but Mom couldn’t help it. She was a middle name kind of woman and always had been. Unlike Lanie, I didn’t mind. Quite the opposite. My middle name was from my dad’s family, and they were all gone now, so I cherished it.

Footsteps sounded from the back deck as Lanie burst inside. 

You okay, Aunt Carla? Did you get stuck in the—oh! Morgan! My cousin beamed as she rounded the corner. I can’t believe you’re here already! We didn’t expect you until tonight! 

I received one more dirt-dusted squeeze and a few excited exclamations over my hair—at least Lanie had good taste—before the hubbub died down.

Come on, Star. Let’s get you settled in. Mom took my hand to show me to my room. I didn’t point out that I did not need an escort, since I’d had the same room all my life. It wouldn’t matter. Mom would do what she wanted to do.

What did you get stuck in? I asked, super curious.

What?

Lanie said you got stuck. 

Mom’s cheeks colored. "Oh, nothing. Cinder and I had a teensy issue, but that was ages ago. All is fine now." She shot Lanie a look that said, ‘don’t you dare tell her.’

Lanie’s eyes, large and brilliant blue, widened as she looked away. 

I muffled a laugh. Mom might not want Lanie blabbing, but I would hear the story. Later. When Lanie and I were alone. 

So, how was your drive, dear? Mom asked as we entered the hallway. 

It was fine. I— We passed the door to my childhood bedroom, the place I always stayed when I visited. I did a double take. Wait. Where are we going? 

"You’re the Alchemist now, Morgan, Lanie whispered. You have to stay close to the workshop in case something happens." 

Her voice sounded small, which broke my heart. That room had once been her mother’s. 

That’s really not necessary, I said. I can take my old room. It’s fine, and not that much farther away. 

No, it’s not fine. Mom shook her head. If there’s a disaster, you need to be as close to the workshop as possible. 

A counterargument tipped my tongue when we arrived at my aunt’s old room, but Mom flung the door open and declared, This room is where alchemists in our family have stayed for generations. It’s a tradition. No exceptions, Morgan Star. 

My stomach twisted as she waltzed into the bedroom. This had been my Aunt Hazel’s room for all of my life and ten years before that. It felt so weird to take it, but as a LaVeau, I understood tradition better than most. Still, no matter what Mom said, Lanie had to be on board. Otherwise, I’d refuse my new accommodations.

Lanebug, I pulled her close in a side hug, are you okay with this? 

Tears shimmered in her eyes. It’s tradition, and the arrangement makes sense. Don’t worry about me. I already took out a lot of her private stuff. We left you with the family heirlooms, of course. 

Of course. The Alchemist got special treatment befitting her position. Still, it broke my heart to see Lanie look so sad. She was my cousin, but I’d always considered her a sister. 

Love you, Bug. 

Love you more, Starbright. 

I smiled at the nickname. It had been at least five years since she’d called me that—since she was a preteen. After that, she went through a phase where she was too cool for the name. I was glad that was over.

Come in, girls, Mom said from where she stood in the middle of the grand room. 

We followed her inside. Slowly, I inhaled, teasing the rose and peppermint scents that Aunt Hazel preferred through my nostrils. 

A meow startled me, and I shook my head. Cinderella Koru, Cinder for short, had wormed her way inside the shut-up bedroom. She lounged on the canopy bed in a spot of sun like she was the queen of the house, which wasn’t too far from the truth. 

Too lazy to welcome me properly, huh? I picked up the black cat. I see how it is. 

The queen did not dignify my comment with a response, but then again, I didn’t expect one. She knew who was in charge, and it wasn’t any of the two-legged creatures in the LaVeau household. 

I stroked her soft fur as I looked around. The cat purred, making me smile as I studied the space that was now mine. The room was as beautiful as I remembered, and as large as my entire two-bedroom apartment in New York.

My gaze traveled over the astrology-inspired wallpaper.