Some Basic Witch

By Abby Knox

Morgan Hibbins and her Sisters are preparing for the biggest Halloween festival their town has ever seen, and everything is right on schedule, until a harmless summoning charm meant to bring her the man of her dreams turns out to be a little too real.

Detective Adam Corey is attempting to keep an eye on the new mysterious group of holy rollers, suddenly pushing back against Halloween. He would have an easier time trying to keep the peace if he could only stop thinking about the strange woman invading his dreams.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Author Abby Knox, LLC
• Release date: Oct 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215179840

Abby Knox

Abby Knox writes feel-good, high-heat romance that she herself would want to read. Readers have described her stories as quirky, sexy, adorable, and hilarious. All of that adds up to Abby’s overall goal in life: to be kind and to have fun! Abby’s favorite tropes include: Forced proximity, opposites attract, grumpy/sunshine, age gap, boss/employee, fated mates/insta-love, and more. Abby is heavily influenced by Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Gilmore Girls, and LOST. But don't worry, she won’t ever make you suffer like Luke & Lorelai. If any or all of that connects with you, then you came to the right place.

Book preview

1

Adam

If pumpkin spice was offered in a can of spray paint, the city leaders of Birchdale would volunteer to get thoroughly vandalized with it.

That’s what it seemed like to Detective Adam Corey. He sipped his black coffee and squinted against the shine of the brilliant blue sky, watching pedestrians nearly trip over the stacks of gourds and haystacks on every corner along Main Street. There were tiny pumpkins in the hanging baskets, accenting the overgrown purple vines. Everyone in this town practically fetishized autumn and Halloween.

Everyone, at least, except for this new holy-roller church, which Adam had his eye on at the moment. This group of folks currently making their way down Main Street were headed in to a little room that was set up inside an empty retail space. The whole town may have been decked out in black cats, cauldrons and eye of newt, but it was this new crowd that set him on edge. Nobody was doing anything illegal, but several things about these people rubbed him the wrong way. The sight of them made his neck hair stand on end.

First, it was the name. Church of the Messenger had an eerie ring to it. The timing was another thing. This Church had sprung up around the same time that the city had started plans for this year’s unique, expanded Halloween festivities.

And then, there was Hank Snow. Local asshole extraordinaire.

Hank was the self-proclaimed pastor of this group, and there he was, sauntering up to church, holding some kind of holy book, looking like a goddamn overgrown sinister choirboy. Were choirboys still a thing? Adam didn’t know and didn’t care to know.

Hank had a colorful rap sheet. Assault. Public nuisances of all kinds. Harassment. Trespassing. Stalking. Public urination. Loitering. Petty theft. The detective couldn’t investigate the group just for following this turd. He couldn’t get a warrant just because this clown had given himself the title of Reverend.

Adam took another sip of coffee. Women with sleeves down to their wrists and hemlines past their ankles, walking about three feet behind their menfolk. And what kind of group meets on a Saturday morning? Adam didn’t know much about religions past his own bar mitzvah at age 14. None of these dudes here were wearing yarmulkes and this was no temple.

Something weird was definitely going on. He had a sinking feeling this was some kind of reaction against the Halloween on Steroids that Birchdale was undertaking at the moment. Just one door down from the Church of the Messenger was a sandwich board in front of Stubby’s Tavern that advertised craft pumpkin ale, Samhain IPA and Witchdale Hefeweizen.

Nobody, not even the local Catholics or Protestants, objected to all this Halloween nuttiness. In fact, just up the street, St. Martin’s street-side marquee advertised midnight tours of its historic cemetery.

Trick-or-treating here was always a big deal, but this year there was even more excitement: a lunar eclipse was predicted on the night of October 31. According to the Main Street bulletin board kiosk, the city was tacking on special events up on Colony Hill, a historic property in the woods maintained by the Living History Sisters Museum. To the average citizen, this meant free admission and tours of this well-known artists colony. The inhabitants, known as the Sisters, dressed up in colonial garb to educate the public about Colonial New England life, and re-enactments of actual witch trials that took place here.

But all it meant to the chief of police, and to Adam, was extra work.

And now, he had a sinking feeling that these new Church people might decide to picket the Halloween events. With Hank Snow in charge, there was a 100 percent chance that shit was going to go sideways.

Adam himself didn’t care much for Halloween, but he also didn’t care to spoil anybody’s fun. So why couldn’t people just let everybody else howl at the moon, dance around the bonfire, or whatever crazy shit they want to do, as long as it’s not bothering anybody else?

Right on cue, his phone rang. He didn’t even have to look at the screen to know who it was. Hi, Mom.

"Honey, I was just looking at the new Reader’s Digest this morning and did you know that the later in life that a man fathers a child, it increases the chance of that child having autism?"

And good morning to you, Mom. He rolled his eyes.

Anyway, I clipped this article out and I’m going to send it to you in the mail. How’s things? They make you chief of police in Witchdale yet?

He rubbed his forehead. I’m a detective, Mom. It’s way better than a desk job and being everybody’s boss. Plus, I don’t have to wear a uniform or talk to the newspaper. And it’s called Birchdale.

You know, Megan just got promoted to chief of surgery and she and her new husband, the one who works in the mayor’s office, they adopted a baby.

No, how would I know that?

I don’t know, some people keep in touch with their ex-wives, but not you, I suppose. But isn’t that wonderful news?

Sure is. Did you call to tell me about Megan, or did you call to tell me my future children are destined to be on the spectrum? Which, by the way, they probably will be. I mean, look at Dad, he’s like 100 percent undiagnosed Asperger’s.

Oh really? Look who’s a doctor now! If you knew anything about your father, you would know that’s an insult to people who actually are on the spectrum, young man. You should have gone to medical school. You would be a great healer, it’s in your blood, you know….

Mom, don’t start that crazy witch doctor talk again while I’m at work.

Oh. Did you go to temple this morning?

There’s no synagogue here, Mom. And besides, maybe the fact that I was raised with dueling religions is still a bit confusing.

There are no dueling religions. Witchcraft is a gift, layered on top of whatever it is we practice or don’t practice. We choose, or don’t choose, our man-made religions to order our world. The elements choose us for the Craft.

Adam rolled his eyes. Well, I worked third shift last night; I’m just finishing up. So, no time for either of those things.

You don’t practice a faith, you don’t practice the craft, you don’t have any babies. Do you even have a girlfriend? Anything outside of work these days?

Mom, can I call you later?

Later, everything is later with you. Just listen to me, sweetheart. Just because it didn’t work the first time doesn’t mean you should wait too long for the next good thing. Sometimes you have to go after it. I did a little wish spell today for you and it gave me the oddest feeling. I just wanted to call and tell you to keep your eyes and your heart open.

Adam laughed. You just want me to jump on the next warm body in a skirt so you can have some grandchildren.

I just want you to be happy.

She was starting to get emotional. Family history speech in 3…2…1.

You know, when my mother fled Russia in 1952, she had only the clothes on her back and her book of spells. I know you don’t believe in it, but I’d like someone to pass this book down to, for posterity, if you don’t mind.

I know.

Isn’t there a nice witchy girl in that town of yours? I bet the place is crawling with descendants. Maybe come visit me here in Woodlawn. There’s a very lively coven here. I’m sure there’s someone to suit you. Or Ashford, that’s just up the road, they have the biggest group in New England outside of Salem.

OK, Mom, the detective finally said. If it’s that important to you, I’ll keep my eyes open. In fact, I’ll go right ahead and ask the next woman who catches my eye for a date. But I don’t have a lot of time on my hands. I’m just trying to keep things calm in case we have a torches-and-pitchforks situation. It’s Halloween, you know.

It’s auspicious timing! Don’t wait for a date. Just go jump somebody’s bones and make me a grandbaby, won’t you?

Mom!

Love you, bye-bye.

Love you, too.

He hung up the phone and wondered what in the hell he had just agreed to.

Adam squinted across