Shadow Witch: Shadow Walker Series

By D. H. Evans

In a world full of magic and supernatural beings, what would you do if you were the only non-magical being in your family?
Bracken Carmichael is that very girl. Classed as an outcast amongst her people, her life has been a roller coaster of emotions in a normally dull little village.
But life is about to get very interesting when the Vampire Lord visits. Danger is around every corner and it seems that her family know more than they are letting on.
With an entire village against her, Bracken needs to find herself some allies, before a much darker time draws closer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: May 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781398404052

D. H. Evans

D. H. Evans is from a small Scottish mining village, where she lives with her two sons and her partner William. When she isn’t working on ideas for books, she writes poetry and likes to make candles and dabble in jewellery-making. Every year, Dianne and her family organise their charity event called “The Angel Tree Stirling”. Each year they ensure that local, underprivileged children are given three Christmas wishes, to ensure that they experience Christmas.

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About the Author

D. H. Evans is from a small Scottish mining village, where she lives with her two sons and her partner William. When she isn’t working on ideas for books, she writes poetry and likes to make candles and dabble in jewellery-making.

Every year, Dianne and her family organise their charity event called The Angel Tree Stirling. Each year they ensure that local, underprivileged children are given three Christmas wishes, to ensure that they experience Christmas.

Dedication

I would like to dedicate this book to two amazing people: my grandparents, Lawrence Law Higgins and Elizabeth Betty Higgins

Copyright Information ©

D. H. Evans 2022

The right of D. H. Evans to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398404045 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398404052 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2022

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Acknowledgement

A huge thank you to my amazing family, who have been on this journey from the beginning and always encouraged me. To my two handsome boys, whom I love to the moon and back. And finally, to my patient and handsome other half; who held my hand and told me to never give up. I love each and every one of you.

For all the people behind the scenes that went into the making of this book, thank you.

Chapter One

There is something to be envied for those that do not dream. To sleep in blissful ignorance every night and wake up, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Not for me. Every night I relive the same dream repeatedly. The same scene, the same effects and the same ending that leaves me frustrated. And tonight is no different.

A coveted sky like a black satin sheet sprinkled with thousands of tiny, delicate sparkling diamonds dazzle above me. The cool, fine and golden sand beneath my feet feels very familiar. This domain is no stranger to me, I’ve been stuck in this groundhog dream for the past three years.

The glowing moon offers the only form of light. After my first few visits here, I realised that I was never going to get the bright hypnotic sphere in my hands, but it still doesn’t stop me from trying to reach out.

Walking forwards, I take in the familiar scenery. To my left, the waves from the sea repeat an exact timed performance, dancing teasingly towards my feet, never once touching my skin. The silence is slightly disconcerting. Not a solitary sound to penetrate the night.

My long white dress clings to me like a second skin; there is no wind, not even a mischievous breeze yet my dress flutters making my skin feel as though it’s being caressed by thousands of delicate butterfly wings. It almost appears luminous in the moonlight. This is the one part of this strange illusion I wouldn’t change; I liked the dress. Its elegant thin straps and plain design are perfect as far as a dress can be. I glance behind me to see the dress dance along the golden sugar sand and as always there is no trace of my footprints, not even a slight indentation where I have stepped. The sand is perfectly undisturbed. I can only assume that it is part of the illusion and not due to the self-misconception of believing that I am so light on my feet that I leave no imprint in the sand. Despite my endless return trips here, I always find myself doing the same things I usually do.

Picturesque and tranquil surroundings are utopic. The sand dunes protrude protectively high to my right. Up ahead, I see the lighthouse standing proud, high up on the cliff edge; that’s when I realise that I’m not alone. Up ahead, directly below the lighthouse at the base of the cliff is a figure. Between the moonlight and the crepuscular shadows from the cliff, it gives the impression that it is moving but never closing in.

My eyes try desperately to focus on it. Step after step, my own legs betraying me, take me closer towards the dark presence. My mind is fighting a losing battle with my limbs. My heart thumps hard in my chest threatening to break out with each beat. I can’t be more than fifty feet away when my focus starts to become more comprehensible. It glides towards me in a hypnotic pace. Both of us stop at the same time as though we were linked. The figure is wearing a dark-hooded cloak that moves as if it is liquid velvet. The hood is shadowing the face beneath so I can’t see who or what it is. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear it was hovering above the sand. So many emotions flit through my mind, curiosity, confusion, anxiety, worry, all at once. Suddenly the waves stop, coming to a complete standstill mid-wave. The beacon for the lighthouse comes to a stop pointing out to sea.

The cloaked figure makes no attempt to close the last thread of distance between us. My heart is beating so hard that my whole body feels as though it’s vibrating. I try to take a step forward but my legs feel heavy, my arms hang down and my sides are unable to move. My eyes are locked onto the figure in front of me. My whole body refuses to do what my mind is telling it. Something appears behind the figure. I didn’t notice it before until now as it looms threateningly over the smaller one. The new figure is cloaked too, dark and ragged. Two pale skeletal hands emerge at either side of the smaller cloaked hood from behind. Thin, boned fingers wrap around the edges of the cloaks hood slowly beginning to draw the liquid material back. Just then, I hear I deep, cavernous growl…

Eyes wide open I regain my breathing to a more normal pace. I hate the term ‘normal’; I’ve never believed that anything in this world is normal, far from it to be honest. For the past three years, I have had the same recurring dream, as always just as the hood of the cloak is about to be pulled back, I wake up! It is frustrating. Nothing changes, the same thing repeatedly. The first few times I started having them, I thought I was losing my marbles. In fact, so did Molly, my best friend when I told her. She even offered to perform a lobotomy, just in case. You can always count on your best friend to be there for you, and offer back-street surgeries that hadn’t been around since the turn of the century. So, I decided to take the less extreme route and check out one of the dream books from my book/witchcraft store that me, my mum and my gran owned. Not that it helped at all. I got so confused when trying to figure out what it all meant that it usually resulted in a killer migraine.

The screeching of the radio alarm rudely interrupted my chain of thought as the latest pop princess belts out her new song. I slap the stop button and look over to see the time. Yep, just as I thought, 07:00 am, Friday the 13th. Oh great, I grumble to myself, not that I am superstitious but a lot of people I know are, and one of them I can hear downstairs in the kitchen making breakfast. Elizabeth Carmichael, my mum and local witch.

No rest for the wicked, I said in a tone too chirpy for this time of the morning.

Getting out of bed is physically easy; it’s the thinking about it and willing yourself that’s hard. Who in their right mind wants to leave the warmth and comfort of their nice cosy bed to get up and go for a run in a cold winter’s February? Me, of course. Throwing the covers away from me, I ran to the chest of drawers beside my window seat, yanking open the top left drawer to grab underwear and socks, then the next to get a white cotton t-shirt, then I retrieve my black and purple tracksuit from the bottom drawer before jumping back into bed with my collection of clothing. I got dressed under the covers trying to keep as warm as possible under the duvet. It’s wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done that. If anyone could see me, I’m sure I would get my fair share of raised eyebrows. But we’ve all done it.

Once dressed, I force myself to get up and straighten up my duvet so it looked a bit less as though I’ve just had a fight with it. I force my feet into my already laced trainers that I found lying at the side of my bed. I rake for my hat, scarf and gloves from the collection of, yet-to-be, folded clothes. I make a mental note to get it cleared at some point soon. I head across the landing and down the staircase to follow the smell of coffee in the kitchen. Mum was making her coffee as I rounded the corner; my dad was sitting at his usual chair reading his newspaper whilst he waited on his eggs being fried for his rolls. I could smell them from my room when I was getting dressed earlier. I screwed up my face at the smell. I hated eggs unless they were done as an omelette with cheese and tomato and mushrooms. Any other way made me feel queasy. My dad ate too many fried eggs in my opinion, to which I noticed recently, my mum had also shared my thoughts as she commented on this last week. Not that he even so much as let on he heard any of us.

I grabbed the bottle of fresh orange from the fridge before I headed out for my daily thirty-minute run. Or lately it was going from ‘daily’ to ‘whenever we had the time’. Clearly my dad had found something in the morning papers that he didn’t like. He made a grunting noise then a few mumbles of distaste as he read further into the story before finally making the usual ‘tisk’ sound. Every day was the same. And I was guessing going by the front page of the Misty Hollow Gazette that it had to do with the British banks being in trouble again and having to be bailed out by the government for a second time. The heading said it all, Banks in Second Crisis This Year. Britain was in a recession due to the current ‘credit crunch’. The banks were not issuing out loans so as a result a lot of businesses were going bankrupt. Now that I think of it, there were a few stores in the village that had closed recently. One was Mrs Oswald’s tailor-made cloak and ritual clothing shop. The other was a shop called ‘Pans and Pots’ run by Mr and Mrs Waverley.

My dad finally folded up his paper as my mum distracted him with his breakfast.

You off out for your run with Molly and Erik again, Bracken? my mum asked as I reach above her to get a glass from the shelf for my fresh orange.

Yeah, just a wee run today as it looks quite cold outside; I think Erik is bringing his dog with him today, I said, not looking forward to it.

Well, remember and put your scarf and that on. Better safe than sorry, my mum said in a protective mummy way.

Yep, I’ve got them out there in the hall ready for me. Mum, do we have any deliveries due today? I asked, wondering what kind of Friday was in store for us at the shop.

Hmm… yeah I think so. I will check when we open shortly. Should be a busy day today since it’s (whispers) you-know-what-today! she said as she clutched her lucky crystal necklace.

Smirking, I shook my head. The shop had been in our family for years, so when my grandmother and mum asked if I wanted to take it over, I jumped at the chance. I am my own boss and I love it. My mum and dad were estate agents in the same firm, but whilst my dad was working full time, my mum, a few years ago, decided to work part-time hours and when she wasn’t at the firm, she was helping me out in the store along with my gran. I had never been a superstitious person, despite the fact that I come from a long line of witches, but I was betting my mum would have every possible incense stick lit and the right crystals to warn off any bad demons or negativity in the shop. I popped out a couple of headache pills from the foil packet my mum handed me to take them with a mouthful of juice. I got headaches every day and had done without fail for over three years now. Some days are not so bad, but then I got other days when it felt as though my head was going to explode. And true to form, just as I’m about to head out for my morning run, it started.

I adjusted my cosy woollen hat out in the hall. The huge mirror was doing me no favours today. So, I stuck my tongue out to show my disgust at how awful I looked just as the doorbell rang out. I was lucky with my skin tone as I seemed to have inherited a healthy tan, but this morning without make-up, I look nearly transparent.

Hey, I said half-heartedly to Erik who was waiting on me outside. No Molly this morning?

No, she opened up early today. Cal is just coming though, Erik said sarcastically, holding onto the leash of his abnormally large Labrador.

I bet she was just trying to get out of doing it with us. I was zipping up my jacket when Cal came around the corner.

Hey Cal, you out last night again? I asked, taking in the dark circles around his tired-looking eyes.

Aye, I had a date with that new lass that works beside Molly. I am never drinking again! Cal said with not much belief behind his words. He said this all the time that he has been out and is suffering the after-effects of the night before. But despite my constant offerings, he wouldn’t take my anti-hangover potion that I like to brew before a heavy night. His loss, and he always suffered.

Cal was slim but toned and a lady’s man to say the least. He never had trouble attracting the opposite sex. Or maybe it has something to do with the fact that he is 6’5" in height with blue eyes and a cheeky smile! Cal was a movie buff, and to say that was selling him short, excusing the choice of words. No matter the movie or characters, Cal could tell you anything about them. He was a bit of a history geek as well but he would never admit that to anyone outside our little group.

Erik, my other running partner, was about 6’2" with short dark blonde hair and very toned like a swimmer’s build. With his blue eyes and toned body, he looked like he has just stepped out of a Mills and Boon book. Cal worked at the new nightclub that opened up here a few months ago. It was the hottest place to be seen, which was not that hard since it was the only place that we went. There were three local pubs but nothing great and nothing specifically for our age group. The pubs were very typical of old mining villages or small villages in general. Everyone went to them and everyone knew each other. The nightclub was just outside the village, about a ten-minute walk from my house taking a short cut through the cemetery or anything above an hour depending on how much alcohol is consumed.

Erik was our local Policeman and had been since he left school. The four of us had been best friends since we were all at high school together. We usually ended up in the same classes and stuck to each other like glue ever since. Molly owned the coffee shop around the corner from my store. She didn’t always have time to go for a run in the morning; she opened up early to allow the caffeine or hot chocolate addicts like me to get their fix on their way to work. And today was one of those days for her. As expected for Friday 13th, nearly everyone and anyone wanted and needed a caffeine fix to prepare them for the possibilities that lay ahead.

We headed around the back of my house which led to the old cemetery that came with our house when my parents bought it. My dad liked the idea of converting a vacant chapel into a home. And he was still trying to do just that. We cleared the back garden so Erik let Spirit of his leash and we dodged through the head stones that lay battered and broken over the ground. This was one of my favourite places to be when I needed some time to myself. It was peaceful and very secluded, with its dominant old oak trees sheltering the grounds. Not to mention that witches were not big fans of disturbing the dead. I wasn’t disturbing them, just ensuring that they knew I was around!

As we jogged through, the frosty ground crisped beneath our feet. Everything was covered in a blanket of sparkling white frost. The fog always seemed to linger here longer than anywhere else, adding to the eeriness that cemeteries have. For me, it made it that more appealing.

So, Bracken, what are the plans for tonight? Erik asked casually, leaping a fallen marker. I was thinking about looking up holiday deals on the internet.

Um, not sure to be honest. I was thinking about a DVD night. I can’t really be bothered doing anything that involves the use of more physical energy, I replied back, trying my hardest just to keep upright let alone vault over ruined gravestones.

Oh, come on you two, both of you sound like you’re about to head to the nearest retirement home for a permanent stay. It’s Friday the 13th for goodness sake, shake yourselves and head to the club tonight. It’s going to be a mega busy night. Just think of all the talent there will be, Erik! Are you honestly going to turn down a night of free alcohol? I have passes for you all, and anyway Bracken, I kind of promised that I would make sure you were there tonight, he tried to sound casual as we jogged past the path that led to the old mausoleum that seemed to dominate the corner of the cemetery. Cal forgot that I could read him very well.

What is that last comment supposed to mean? Who did you promise?

Forget about that. What’s this about free drink? asked Erik, suddenly very enthusiastic about the night ahead.

One of my bosses saw you at the club last week and asked who you were; when I told him, he asked me to get you to come to the club this weekend. He seemed curious about you. In a good way, though. He laughed, flashing one of those teasing smiles at me as a give him one of those looks that asked, What are you up too?

Erik took that as opportunity to torment me throughout the rest of our morning jog, singing, Bracken’s got a boyfriend, Bracken’s got a boyfriend, and not in a tone that was easy on the ears either! Luckily, I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts of the working day ahead to bother with his jibes at me. I had never met Cal’s bosses, so why did one of them want to meet me? The bouncers on the door never looked very cheery or pleasant, so I could only imagine what the owner was like!

Mum was already at the store by the time I had arrived freshly showered and dressed. The sign above the door read ‘Maiden Mother Crone’ in big scripted green writing. Underneath was smaller letters reading ’family-run businesses. As soon as I walked through the door, I could smell the Dragon’s Blood incense. This was used for protection and to exercise negative energies. I was expecting something different given the date today. My mum had always been superstitious; it seemed to run through her side of the family. Both my aunts and my grandmother were exactly the same. It was never anything that I had bothered with to be honest. I just didn’t believe that a number mixed with a certain day of the week had any cause for concern. My grandmother kept telling me that I should not push the old ways aside. Witchcraft had been in my family for as long as I knew. My grandmother used to tell me stories when I was a little girl of her mother and grandmother. She was a very proud woman, my grandmother, and very proud of where our family originated from. I had never known anyone to have so much information on their family’s history other than my grandmother. Her attic in her house was full of pieces of our family’s history. Despite me being the black sheep of the family, she remained proud and positive.

Mum was behind the cash desk when I walked in. I said, hello! as I passed by to dump my bag in the storeroom.

Hey Mum, what’s on the agenda for today? I asked, watching her do the one-fingered type on the computer’s keyboard. My mum wasn’t much of a fan of the computer or the technology era; she tried her best to keep away from it until I showed her the basics of how to work it.

Mum looked up from the computer with an exasperated look. I think we are going to have a busy day today, Bracken. The orders are due in today so we have the customers to call to let them know. Do you want to nip out and get us some coffees?

Yeah sure, it will give me a chance to find out if Molly is up for tonight. Do you want anything else whilst I am out?

If you see anything nice, then that could be a nice treat for today, she said, concentrating hard on the invoices.

I giggled to myself and headed out the door. It was still cold outside, and I was wishing I had something warmer on. I had on my grey long top that clung to my body, showing off my ample curves up top. I was thankful for my blue skinny jeans though. Over all this, I had on my thick purple ankle-length knitted cardigan that had a tie belt around the waist but I usually kept it open so it billowed like a cloak when I walked. I could have opted for more reasonable footwear but the grey high-heeled ankle boots went with my top. My hair felt cold against my neck. It fell smoothly all the way down my back. Strands of auburn poker-straight hair blew onto my face from the gentle winter breeze and were sticking to my lip-gloss making my shut my eyes for a moment to brush them away.

That’s when I heard the loud screeching of tires. I sorted myself, then quickly registered that I had started to cross the road only to have a car brake so as not to hit me. The car was like the colour of perfect black almost like black glass. The windows were blacked out too so I couldn’t see who was driving, but the car just sat there, inches from my leg, waiting for me to cross. I waved awkwardly in apology as I hurried to the other side of the road to the kerb and turned to see the car was still there, waiting. For what, I had no idea. I stayed on the kerb, looking at the car waiting for it to do something. After a few moments, it slowly drove away. I got the feeling that whoever was in the car was watching me. I watched the stylish black Chrysler 300c drive off. The registration plate read ‘N1K0L’ which I thought was very odd. It probably matched the oddity of its owner.

Molly waved to me as I neared the front of the steamed-up glass windows of the coffee shop. She seemed really cheery considering it wasn’t even nine o’clock in the morning yet. I pushed the heavy glass door open and went around to the side of the counter, squeezing past the early morning worms waiting on their first caffeine fix of the day. I stood to the side of the little staff opening. Molly was serving someone when she turned around and mouthed to me ‘two minutes’ over the noise of the espresso maker and other loud machines. I smiled and gave her a slight nod of my head so she knew I got her message. Molly was the rogue one out of us two girls. In fact, if truth be told, she was the rowdy one out of all of us! At 5’6" she was the smallest between us two girls but she was becoming rowdier as the years go on; she was still a little shy when it came to men. Molly’s blonde bob was the colour of honey. She was a natural redhead but she charmed her hair to always cover her natural colour. She looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. If only they knew her like I did.

Hey toots. Did you and the boys go for a jog this morning? Molly asked me in a too cheery for this time of morning mood.

Yeah, although Erik was on the ball this morning with his slagging me off no thanks to Cal, I said, shaking my head.

Ha. About time it was you instead of it being me all the time, she said with a lot of amusement showing in her face. Yeah, sounds like Erik to take advantage of something like that. What did Cal do that got Erik so keyed up then? she asked waiting for the first piece of juicy gossip for today.

Rolling my eyes at her eagerness to find out, I give her the condensed version of my earlier findings.

Oh, she said in a mocking tone. Do you know who his boss is, or what he looks like? Is he hot? I bet he is loaded too. I mean, come on, he owns a huge successful nightclub. Not to mention the new hotel being built across the way. She waved her hand in a way that suggested she was stating the obvious. So hence, therefore, he must be. Come on, Bracken, get in there. Have you seen any of his cars?

Shaking my head, slightly confused, I asked, No. Why have you?

Yes. Oh yes. And let me tell you, if the one that I saw is anything to go by, the man has exquisite taste in cars. He has a cool private number plate too.

By any chance, was he driving a black Chrysler 300c? I eagerly awaited her answer on this but I had already guessed the answer.

I think so. You know me and cars, but if it was black, sleek and totally hot, then that’s the one. I thought you didn’t know who he was? Come on, Bracken, spill the beans. Molly was robotically making coffees and clearing things away as well as holding down a full-blown conversation with me and keeping tabs on everyone that came into the shop. The girl had skills, no doubt about that.

Molly has always loved gossip, regardless of the subject or the person involved. It’s always been the way she is, I got used to her a long time ago back in school. If there was anything to be found out, guaranteed Molly would have the entire story before the event had even finished.

It was 8:46 in the morning, a Friday morning nonetheless, and there was a massive queue of early risers waiting on getting served. Molly stopped serving for a few moments and stood across from me in the corner, waiting on her fix of gossip. Needless to say, a few of the not so cheery customers were giving both of us some seriously bad looks, and if looks could really kill, damn… I’d be well and truly rotting in my cosy little coffin just now.

I gave Molly the juicy gossip for all it was worth while she let her staff take over for a few minutes. To me it was nothing, I wasn’t paying attention when I crossed the road and there is nothing worse than when the wind blows hair into your freshly applied lip-gloss. Like a moth to the light and a magnet to metal, the minute lip-gloss is on, hair lunges for it. But Molly, being Molly, had twisted the little information that I gave her and turned it into a mountain of sex, lust, romance and fate. This was her at her best. She got all that just from me not paying attention to my green cross code and having a mysterious black car stop for me.

The Chrysler 300c was one of my favourite cars. I’ve lived here in Misty Hollow all my life; it’s one of those close-knit villages where everyone likes to know everyone’s business. Even if you don’t, there is no way of stopping the rolling ball of curtain twitchers and gossip queens. No one in Misty Hollow that I know of has ever owned that type of car or even one in the same price range. We had some really nice cars around here but nothing in the price range of the Chrysler.

Hello. Earth to Bracken! Anyone home? Molly snapped her fingers in front my face, trying to grab my attention before pinching my nose.

Ow. Um, sorry. I was thinking about the car. Do you know anyone else here that could possibly own that kind of car? I said, snapping out of my thought.

I told you who it was already, Bracken, she said in a matter-of-factly tone. It’s the guy that owns The Glass Coffin club that Cal works at. Did you get a look at him? Cal has never met any of the big bosses. He has met all the day shift staff but he says that the night shift team keep changing all the time. He can never keep track of who they are or who is meant to be working. The bosses come in and keep themselves to the VIP room and not even he gets in there to see them and he is meant to be one of the supervisors.

I could feel myself frowning. Hmm, that does sound a wee bit peculiar. Maybe they just don’t want to be bothered. But to not have met them at all does seem a bit odd. I tried not to ponder on that for long. I was used to weird and wonderful things happening around here.

Welcome to Misty Hollow, I said quietly to Molly, adding my best sarcastic tone. Home to the weird and wonderful. She gave me a cheeky smile and nodded in agreement. But the guy next to me didn’t seem to approve of my criticism.

What felt like two hours was actually only fifteen minutes later, I had finally managed to get the coffees from Molly and was back at my store. I handed my mum her large, skinny latte with a shot of vanilla as she finished dusting the new gothic thrones that we got in last week. I sat down, closed my eyes as I took a sip of my large hot chocolate with a cherry shot, savouring each sip. It was my idea of the perfect Friday morning medicine.

My mum was beside me; both of us sat there in silence taking advantage of a brief, quiet spell. I had my eyes closed and the paper cup raised up to my lips, breathing in the aroma when I heard the door open and make contact with the wind chime. The sudden sharp intrusion of the crisp air snapped me back to reality.

The man in the doorway had to be at least 6’3 and looked displeased as he batted at the wind chime like an annoying fly above his head. I noted his black military-style clothing seemed out of place in our witchcraft village. Maybe he belonged to the Lycan village across the forest I thought noting the lack of warm accessories. My mum stood up, placing her coffee down on the table beside the throne, then said, good morning to the man. He looked to my mum and gave a slight dip of his head and said, good morning" back.

There was an accent to his words. Irish, and very strong at that. I stood up and turned to walk towards the back of the store so I could pretend to look like I was doing something to make myself look busy. My mum, unlike me, didn’t have to pretend to look busy as she went up the steps to the right that lead to the open planned upper level of the store and began making space for the delivery that was due in. Although, I did wonder for a brief moment why she had practically ignored the customer and went off to do something else. Mum was nothing if not a people person. She wouldn’t pass anyone by without saying hello to them.

I looked up from my emails to find him standing on the opposite side of the desk.

Is there something I can help you with? I asked him with my ever-so-happy Friday tone. I was never one for being patient with anything. I took after my dad that way. I put on my best customer service smile, but if he didn’t say anything soon it was going to start getting awkward.

He kept his face completely void of emotion. His Irish accent was strong. I am looking for some dried hawthorn and dried rowan leaves. Do you have any?

His accent spellbound me. There was something about this man though, something I couldn’t put my finger on. His very presence was intimidating. It wasn’t bothering me too much, but I got the impression that it would be something that other people would notice and most likely try and avoid him. I liked that sort of thing though. But that was me all round. I never liked the boy next-door types. I never really went for the over the top muscle types either but it was more the way that he held himself that appealed to me. The way he kept that unemotional expression was what kept my attention. Not many people could pull that off. I should know, as I regularly used that same expression for so many different reasons, usually when dealing with these judgmental locals. He didn’t quite tick all my boxes though. I was too fussy for my own good. He was standing in front of me with his muscle-bound arms across his chest waiting for me to reply.

Um, I’m pretty sure that we do. I keep all that kind of thing over beside the candles all in alphabetical order. I kept my smile on and motioned him to follow me over to the shelved alcove that was in the middle of the back of the store.

It was directly under the upper balcony. All the walls were sectioned off into carved alcoves for that alluring look. The carvings were of various elements and witchcraft symbols and the shelves were stocked with an assortment of herbs, spices, leaves and pieces of bark. Above each alcove had corresponding letters to mark them in alphabetical order. I walked over towards the alcove listed G-H and looked for the dried hawthorn. All herbs and leaves from trees were also given their Latin name as well. When I found the clear glass bottle with the hawthorn, I turned around to hand it to the man only to find him standing directly behind me. I only had enough room to turn myself around and no more. He took one step back to allow me more room. I liked my personal space as much as anyone else, and this was definitely within my personal space. I didn’t say anything. I kept that annoying friendly smile on and walked over to the Q-R section. I looked for the rowan leaves but couldn’t find any. I raked the shelves in case it had been put back in the wrong order, but there was none left. We had some rowan berries but no leaves.

I turned around to tell him that I had none left but he spoke first. Is there a problem, miss? He kept his face blank.

It seems we are out of stock, I replied. When do you need it for? I have a delivery due in later today. If you can hold on a few moments, I can check the system? If truth be told I was hoping that he wasn’t the patient type.

Please do, he said, following me to the desk area.

After a few, brief moments of clicking keys to find my order, I had found what he was looking for. The leaves are due in the delivery for today. Would you like me to contact you when it arrives? I asked, giving him my best customer service tone.

No, thank you. I will come back later. What time is the delivery due in? Short, sharp and sour. But his accent was making up for it.

It usually comes in around ten o’clock on a Friday. Would you like me to put a bottle aside for you?

Please. Someone will be back later to collect it, miss? he asked questionably, putting a lot of emphasis on the ‘miss’ waiting for me to give him my name.

Carmichael, I said, noting his brief look of surprise. Maybe I had just imagined it but no matter how unaltered his facial expression, his eyes gave him away.

What name will I put it under? I asked with a slight curious tone to my words. I had my fingers on the keys of the keyboard ready to type. He seemed to take a long time to give me a name. Maybe he was thinking about whether or not to give me a name or just maybe he was hesitating for dramatic affect either way it just made me more curious. Eventually he spoke.

Someone will be in to collect it later. Thank you, Miss Carmichael.

I had just finished typing in the details. I looked up to say thank in return but he was gone. And he had left without giving me a name. I thought it was a bit strange as I hadn’t even heard him leave. I looked towards the door trying to come up with an explanation. The more I contemplated on it, the more I thought about how little I had heard him move in the store at all. His military look was obviously his job and not just a poorly thought out fashion statement. Was I just being too inquisitive for my own good?

I heard a loud thump coming from the balcony followed by my mum, shouting, I’m all right. I’m all right. I dropped the box of parchment paper and wax seals. But I’ve got it all now.

Okay. I’ll get started on making room for the new athame glass display unit coming, I replied as I bent down under the desk and put a cd on. The soothing sounds of Moonlight Sonata rang out. I loved this song. Classical music had that quality to it that let you get lost within its sound.

The delivery came bang on ten o’clock. The delivery drivers were always really helpful when they came to our store. They took all the boxes through to the storeroom and helped with any heavy display units that I needed out on the store floor. Nothing to do with duty and probably everything to do with the fact that mum always fed them when they came in. Mum always brought in sandwiches she made at home on delivery days. She liked to feed the drivers when they came in, as she considered their job to be heavy grafting. The drivers were more than happy to get some free food though. But I suppose my mum had a point.

We had spent all of the morning shift putting out the delivery. It had been a fairly busy morning with the comings and goings of villagers collecting their orders and picking up a few necessities. We were putting out the contents of the last boxes when the door opened. I was squatted down on the ground beside the box, trying ever so hard to balance on the balls of my feet, so I didn’t fall on my ass, when I noticed a pair of men’s shiny black shoes beside me. I followed the line of the dark-grey suit trousers all the way up, past the thick black woollen coat until I came to see the face of a gorgeous-looking guy. He looked really tall. Although anyone looks tall when they are standing up and you are practically sitting on the ground. He offered me his hand which I took. I stood up with my hand, still holding onto him whilst I brushed down my jeans as I was covered in pieces of polystyrene balls and shredded cardboard. Not the best look to have when tall, dark and hot comes knocking on the door.

I thanked him and let go of his hand that I just realised I’d kept a hold off. I could feel my face redden and tried my hardest to hide my face with my hair. One of the good things about having very long hair is that you can hide under it if the situation allows, and this situation was allowing. I thanked the goddess for blessing me with long hair, and, of course, my mum.

Hello, Miss Carmichael. I see from your boxes that you are in the midst of putting out your delivery. If it is not convenient then I can come back later to check for my items? Not an Irish accent this time. His was a deep and rich-sounding Russian accent. Smooth and very easy on the ears.

He gave me a gorgeous smile. Not a full Cheshire cat type smile. More like one of those slightly to the side smiles that are halfway between a cute smirk and a sexy closed mouthed smile. His face was as pale as his hands, but damn if he wasn’t totally gorgeous. He looked like one of those male models that you see in magazines that you never see out on the streets. It makes you wonder if they guys are real or just computer generated for the magazine. He had well-groomed, short and dark hair. His pale complexion was flawless. From his dark perfectly groomed eyebrows, to his perfectly formed deep, red lips that looked as though they were begging to be kissed. Yet looking at his unspoiled features, the thing that stood out the most were his eyes. They were incredible to say the least. They looked like huge green sapphires framed by thick black eyelashes. His whole appearance was overwhelming. I looked like a peasant compared to him. I realised that I must have been staring and quickly tried to hide it and compose myself. He had a puzzled look on his face and I realised that he was turning to walk away.

NO! it was out of my mouth in a loud shout before my mind had time to chastise myself for it.

He gave me one of those raised eyebrows looks as he turned to look back. I could never do the single eyebrow raise, or at least not without making a total clown face at the same time. I quickly amended myself so my face didn’t give it all away again.

No, it’s okay. That’s my last box that I am putting out just now. What was it you were in to collect Mr…? I added the last part in hoping to find out his name, but he never took the bait.

I had one of my security come in earlier to find some dried rowan leaves but you had sold out. He was informed that it would be available later. Has it arrived, Miss Carmichael?

He lingered on the ‘Miss’ so it sounded more like a ‘Z’ instead of an ‘S’. Apparently, we were playing the name game. But two can play that game. And if I had learned anything from past but brief encounters was that men play games, and I had had my fair share of men’s games so I knew how to play along. I gave him my best blank poker face and turned my back to him and carefully stepped over the cardboard box so I could get behind the cash desk and out the other side. It was a long way for a short cut but I decided not to encourage myself any further and put as much space between the two of us as I could within the store. His order was under the desk as were the rest of the orders waiting to be collected.

Oh. Good morning. Can I help you with anything? my mum asked the man, not realising I was ducked under the desk looking for his order. My mum was always friendly or at least to those that were friendly to her. But there was tension in her voice as if she were nervous or unsure.

He had been watching me though, even as my mum spoke to him. He turned towards her as if just noticing that she was there. He was quite a bit taller than my mum. She was shorter than me, probably around 5’5".

Reviews for Shadow Witch

[Pj Rooney · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Needed proofreading. Repeatedly confused 'of' and 'off', letters missing out of words.

[S Ni · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Wow so much uneeded info just to fill the pages