Calling Back Love

By Margaret L. Carter

War has stolen Kirsten’s fiance Shawn from her. After he’s reported missing and presumed dead in Afghanistan, she turns to witchcraft to bring him back. Though she can’t recall him from the dead, magic can grant them one last weekend together for a proper farewell. Once she has tasted his love again, she can hardly bear the thought of letting him go. Yet even this brief interlude violates the laws of nature. There is no way to make his return permanent—or is there?

• Language: Unknown
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Jun 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9781509243129

Margaret L. Carter

Reading DRACULA at the age of twelve ignited Margaret L. Carter’s interest in a wide range of speculative fiction and inspired her to become a writer. Vampires, however, have always remained close to her heart. Her work on vampirism in literature includes four books and numerous articles. She holds a PhD in English from the University of California (Irvine), and her dissertation contained a chapter on DRACULA. In fiction, she has written horror, fantasy, and paranormal romance, as well as sword-and-sorcery fantasy in collaboration with her husband, a retired naval officer. Recent publications include AGAINST THE DARK DEVOURER (Lovecraftian dark paranormal romance) and spring-themed light contemporary fantasy BUNNY HUNT. Her short stories have appeared in various anthologies, including the “Darkover” and “Sword and Sorceress” series. She and her husband live in Maryland and have four children, several grandchildren and great-grandchildren, a St. Bernard, and two cats. Please visit Carter’s Crypt: http://www.margaretlcarter.com

Book preview

Wild-eyed, he glanced from side to side, a rifle clutched in his hands. His gaze locked on her. Kirsten? His voice sounded hoarse, half strangled. His grip slackened to point the weapon at the floor. What are you doing here?

Her chest ached with pent-up breath. She had to swallow a lump before she could force out an answer. I’m right where I’ve always been. She took one step toward him, wary of how he might react to sudden moves.

He scanned the room more slowly. This is home. San Diego. How did I get here?

Step by step, she closed the gap between them until she could pluck the rifle from his grip. She gingerly laid it in a corner before touching him, her fingers alighting on his forearms. Solid, not a spirit. What’s the last thing you remember?

Leading my platoon through a mountain pass. We worked our way up a rocky trail with scrubby bushes on both sides. My sergeant took point in front of me—there was an explosion—I was right behind him—and now I’m here. He grabbed her arms. This is impossible. I should be dead. Or wounded, maybe.

But you’re not. You’re with me. She stepped still closer and rested her palms on his chest. He smelled like dust, sweat, and gun oil.

Calling Back Love

by

Margaret L. Carter

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Calling Back Love

COPYRIGHT © 2022 by Margaret L. Carter

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by

Jennifer Greeff

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Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

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Publishing History

First Edition, 2022

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-4312-9

Previously published by Ellora’s Cave

Published in the United States of America

Chapter One

The leather-bound notebook lay open on the redwood kitchen table, its scrawls of black ink a mockery of Kirsten’s faint hopes. "I’ve scoured every page of Grandmamma’s Book of Shadows. I can’t find one word about what I need. She slammed the book shut. Not a thing about restoring life to a person killed before his time."

And you won’t. Estelle shook her head, the spring of her salt-and-pepper curls punctuating the decree. No magic can call back the dead. And even if it could, you know that never ends well. You’ve read ‘The Monkey’s Paw’ and that book about the cursed pet cemetery.

"But I can’t leave it like this. When we talked on Skype the night before his last patrol, we had another fight about his career. I came this close to making him choose between the Army and me. We didn’t have a real goodbye. If there’s any way magic can give me one more chance, I’ll take it." In the two months since the report of Shawn’s presumed death in Afghanistan, the memory of that argument had been eating her alive.

When I promised your grandmother I’d mentor you in the Craft, I accepted certain responsibilities, one of which is to stop you from making reckless choices.

Kirsten rubbed her eyes, sore from yet another crying fit just before she’d come here, and stared at her mentor with wild hope. You wouldn’t talk about stopping me if it weren’t possible in the first place. Okay, witchcraft can’t bring the dead back to life. How about calling up his spirit so we can have one last conversation?

Have you ever seen me conduct a séance? Me or any other responsible witch? It’s against nature to disturb the peace of the dead. Estelle strolled to the counter to pour two mugs of coffee. The window over the sink framed her silhouette against a serene background of sun-dappled trees, in ironic contrast to the turmoil that racked Kirsten. Her teacher’s spacious kitchen with its granite floor, exposed oak beams and aromas of drying herbs usually welcomed her with its warmth. Today it felt as bleak as the rest of the world.

I don’t believe he’s at peace. He was blown to bits on a mountainside with nothing left to bring home. Survivors of the platoon had reported two explosions, the second of which had obliterated Shawn. No remains had been found, not even a minute fragment, hence the missing and presumed dead conclusion that left him in official limbo. We were supposed to get married after he finished this tour. The IED stole that from us. I’m not at peace with that so how can he be, wherever he is? She shoved aside the mug Estelle set in front of her.

The older woman clasped her hand across the table. When the gift for magic skipped your mother, your grandmother entrusted your training to me. She’d find a way to rise up and haunt me if I let you risk yourself with any such dark working.

There you go again, hinting at something you’re hiding from me. Well, maybe I don’t need your help. There’s got to be somebody on the left-hand path who’ll teach me what I need to know.

Estelle’s thin face hardened, as stern as an avenging angel’s, her blue eyes turning icy. Don’t even think that. Do you imagine for one minute the Goddess would shelter you from the consequences?

Where was She when Shawn died on that mountain? Kirsten stood up and paced around the room, feeling as if