Warden of Magic

By Anna J. Stewart

Librarian Clara MacQueen came to Scotland with her two sisters to reunite with the mother who abandoned them years ago. But a visit to what looks like an innocent bookstore catapults Clara into a world of magic, mystery and adventure…and right into the arms of Bowen, an imprisoned warrior fighting an evil who will soon set its eyes on the MacQueen sisters. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Publishing
• Release date: Sep 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9781094443256

Anna J. Stewart

USA Today and national bestselling author Anna J Stewart can't remember a time she didn't have a book in her hands or a story in her head. Early obsessions with Star Wars, Star Trek, and Wonder Woman set her on the path to creating sweet to sexy pulse-pounding romances for her independent heroines. Anna lives in Northern California where she deals with a serious Supernatural addiction and an overly affectionate cat named Snickers.

Book preview

Not another bookstore.

Grateful for the distraction given the day ahead, Clara MacQueen stifled a grin at her sister’s tortured groan and gazed through the grimy, cluttered window of Thistles and Thorns.

It was only one of a dozen bookstores they’d come across since their arrival in Scotland three days before. The store had seen better days, with its crooked overhanging sign and rusted door handle. The crisp Edinburgh winter air swept over them and as Clara took a deep breath, she could all but smell the musty old pages and worn leather covers waiting inside. She tightened the plaid scarf around her neck and rocked back on her heels, determined to explore despite the snow that caked the sidewalks and continued to fall. Give me five minutes, Nellie. Clara glanced down the street where their oldest sister had surrendered to her caffeine addiction on her way to pick up their rental car from the agency.

It’ll take you five minutes to stop looking in the window.

At Nellie’s perfectly arched brow, Clara laughed. Okay, a half hour. Stall Amber for me and I promise, I won’t say a word when you find another castle to tour.

Hey! Nellie’s green eyes sparkled like emeralds under a spotlight. It’s Edinburgh for crying out loud. What else are we going to do?

Visit bookstores? Clara’s eyes watered against the chilly breeze. We made a deal. You get your castles, Amber gets her art galleries, and I get—

To buy another suitcase because you’ve already run out of space. How many antique books do you need, anyway? Nellie let out an overly dramatic sigh and whipped her red curls out of her face. "Vacations are supposed to get you away from work. Don’t you see enough books in that library of yours?"

"I don’t know, Professor. Clara fluttered her lashes. Added any more history notes to that card catalog brain of yours?"

Nellie smirked. I’m not a professor. Yet. And my students love to hear about all the places I visit when we travel. She hesitated, some of the humor fading from her eyes. Of course the one character trait we MacQueen sisters share is the talent for procrastination. We agreed we can’t play the entire time. We have to go and see our mother some time.

Why? Clara bit the inside of her cheek and focused her attention on the beautifully decorated lamp posts rather than the chiding expression on her older sister’s face. Given the three girls had been abandoned by Shona MacQueen before any of them could barely say Mama, Clara wasn’t in any hurry to get reacquainted. It hadn’t been Clara’s idea to spend their annual vacation tracking down their long-lost mother, but for whatever reason, her sisters’ yearning for healing old wounds had overridden her practical desire for the sun baked beaches of Hawaii. She’d been outvoted. Again. But at least she usually got her way when it came to bookstores.

We promised Dad. Not that Nellie had to remind her. Again. And it’s not like we aren’t having a good time. You have to admit that Christmas celebration at Edinburgh castle last night was pretty amazing. Nothing makes the holidays like bagpipes under a starry sky.

There’s nothing about Scotland that isn’t amazing. From the second Clara had stepped foot off the plane, she’d felt as if she’d come home. And not because the entire city was decked out in all its holiday finery, from Princes Street to Georges Street. The German Christmas Market had given her chills while Calton Hill had given all of them some of the most gorgeous views of the old-world city possible. I just don’t see what good it’s going to do, meeting her. She left us, remember?

Clara’s chest tightened as she remembered her mother driving away for the last time. And the unending toddler tears she’d shed on her father’s strong shoulders. There’s no guarantee we’ll actually find her. The address the private investigator found is more than a decade old.

But Clara knew. As did Nellie and Amber. Their mother was here. They could…feel it.

Oh, hey, that’s Amber. Nellie glanced down at her phone and the text message that appeared on her screen. They can’t find the reservation number. I need to resend her the contract. If I can find it. She tapped on the screen. We’ll come get you when we’re done. In a half hour. Max.

Yeah, yeah. Thirty minutes. Excitement pounded through Clara as she reached for the doorknob. Ouch! She jumped back, shaking her hand as the electric shock sparked along her fingers.

You okay? Nellie turned back to her sister at Clara’s hiss of pain.

Yeah. Fine. Clara stuck her index finger in her mouth. Static build up I guess. Probably the wool scarf. I’ll see you in thirty.

Twenty-nine. Nellie grinned and headed back down the street, her brown booted feet clomping on the snow-caked sidewalk.

Cautious, Clara reached for the handle again. This time there was no shock. She pushed open the door and stepped inside. Ahhhhh. She always found the smell of paper and ink both calming and invigorating and the added aroma of nutmeg seemed appropriate given the season. The quiet reverence of the cluttered store welcomed her like an old friend as the door clicked shut behind her, and she unwrapped her scarf and tucked her purse behind her as she inched down the narrow aisle.

The dim light had her stomach jumping, as she confronted that life-long fear of closed-in dark spaces. A fear offset by the comfort brought by shelves stacked high and wide with books of every size and shape. Some had shiny new wrap around paper covers while others displayed embossed leather tomes layered with enough history to make Nellie drool. Not an inch of wall space wasn’t covered in shelves that were in turn packed tighter than commuters on a subway train during rush hour.

Ach. Customer. The muffled, female voice came across as irritated and confused. Who is it then?

Clara froze in her tracks as a plume of dust erupted from the end of the aisle. In reflex, she pressed a finger under her nose to stave off a sneeze attack. I’d just like to look around if that’s all right.

Look and look, sure. All people ever do is look. Those who come in at least.

Clara stared at the small,