A Witch Under Block and Key: Mystic Forest Cozy Mystery Series, #2

By Lishla Barron

In the mountains of north Georgia, Anne helps her long lost daughter, Brooke, fight magical forces to save Brooke's husband, Kenny, along with solving the mysterious death of Anne's toxic ex-office colleague, Fred. A fun midlife magical mystery filled with werewolves, a vampire, and lots of other magical creatures, including Anne's awesome familiar, Lilah, an Eastern screech owl, and her dogs, River and Stream.

• Language: English
• Publisher: L. B. Diamond
• Release date: Jan 2, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224285907

Book preview

Prologue

Iknew I was dreaming . I looked around to see a neighborhood playground which had slides and a swing set. I sat down on one of the swings, and wondered where all of this was. I didn’t recognize any of it.

A young woman sat down on the swing next to mine. She had shoulder-length auburn hair, lots of freckles, and green eyes, like my sister’s and mine. I noticed that we both were wearing jeans and a t-shirt. It was a sunny day on the playground – not the wintry February evening which was going on outside of this dream.

Where are we? I asked her tentatively. I knew she must have called me here. This was the second time. The first time, she only looked at me without saying a word. That was a few weeks earlier.

I only knew who she must be because I recognized her from pictures sent to me years ago.

The playground down the street from my house – or, at least, the house I grew up in, she told me.

Looks like a nice neighborhood, I commented.

It is, she sighed. How do I find you? she questioned me, staring at me full in the face for the first time.

I smiled at her, encouragingly. Looks like you already did. I’m sitting right here.

But, this isn’t real. This is a dream, she protested.

Just because it’s a dream, doesn’t mean it isn’t real, I said. I gently took her hand, and pressed a stainless steel chain into it. The pendant was a deep orange agate stone, which was known for stability, self-confidence, and harmony. My mother had given it to me for her.

Put the necklace on. This will help to guide you in your powers, I told her.

Then I pressed another stone into her hand – a peridot, a pale lime green stone, known for helping to find what was lost. I had put it aside when she had first contacted me, hoping she would try again.

This will guide you to me, if you wish. I had cast a brief locator spell on the stone before I had handed it to her.

Thanks, Mom, she said to me, before the dream dissolved.

Chapter 1

When Tommy, my husband , and I first began seriously dating while we were in college, he brought me to meet his mother. Now, keep in mind, my mother had never gotten along well with her mother-in-law, which meant I never felt that I could be close to my father’s mother without it being a bit of a betrayal to my mom. I swore that when I got married, it would be different from my mother’s relationship with her mother-in-law.

I knew that Tommy was the man I wanted to marry. I was 19 and in love, and very naïve. Tommy and I had been dating for about a year at that point. I just knew that because Tommy loved me and we were planning a future together, that his mother would love me too.

Tommy’s dad had been a military man and died while Tommy was still in elementary school, so his mom raised him and his brothers with the help of her family.

Nancy, Tommy’s mother, had goals for her son, and none of those goals involved him marrying some nobody no matter how pretty her red hair was.

I must have watched too many movies as a child because I thought Nancy and I would be great friends and go shopping together, just like one of those after school specials on television.

Did I mention that I was naïve at the age of 19?!

Nancy had other ideas. She tried to get Tommy to break up with me, which didn’t really work for her. Tommy would sigh and tell me she was being difficult. Then, she would try to set Tommy up on dates with other women. Thankfully, she lived several states away, so that didn’t work so well.

Tommy and I getting married – yes, his mother was at the wedding – never really seemed to slow down her efforts of getting Tommy to leave me, as she was still trying to set him up on dates after we had celebrated our first wedding anniversary. No, I’m not kidding.

Then, Tommy’s older brother, Oliver, got married. We heard all about how much Nancy just loved his wife. How great she was. How well-connected she was. How well she dressed. Until the day they filed for divorce because she was sleeping with her personal trainer, who also happened to be female.

Kenny, Tommy’s younger brother, had been married to his military career for a long time. He finally got married by eloping about five years ago, but we still hadn’t met her yet due to their travelling for his work. He called her BB and sent us a picture which was sitting on our mantle, along with all our other pictures of family. The picture showing their faces was so small that we couldn’t really see much of his wife, but they looked to be smiling, so that was good.

Tommy and Kenny talked or texted, or both, every few days if not every day. I had hoped to meet BB before now, but maybe this year. I don’t know if Nancy had ever met her or not. I know they hadn’t had children yet, or I would have heard. (At least, I hope I would have heard.)

When Tommy and I tried to have children, Nancy always had ever-so-helpful (not) advice. Over the years, I stopped talking to her, and would merely say hello when she called, or just outright hand the phone to Tommy.

Tommy and I didn’t manage to have children of our own together, during which time Nancy launched another campaign to attempt to convince Tommy to leave me for someone who could have children with him. If I recalled correctly, he stopped talking to her for several months at some point until she ceased that nonsense.

My mother had me when she was rather young, in her early 20s. (She had my sister, Arielle, in her early 30s.) Her younger sisters didn’t have children until their mid-30s or so, which made their children more like nieces and a nephew (Amara,  Ava, Alina, and Alex) to Tommy and me when they were born.

Due to who Alex is, and has always been, his parents had trouble adjusting from having fraternal twin girls to having fraternal boy-girl twins. They had difficulty accepting that Alex was really a boy – which is where Tommy and I stepped in as his second set of parents, and through Alex, we became back up parents to Alina as well.

Eventually Tommy’s mother decided that I wasn’t evil incarnate, even though I hadn’t provided her with a grandchild (as she didn’t count Alex, even though my mother did). I still avoided speaking to her except about once or twice a year – I just found it easier that way.

I had never told Nancy about the child I had given up for adoption before I met Tommy. I didn’t think it was any of Nancy’s business. I had supposed Tommy had told her at one point or another, but she was surprisingly smart enough not to bring it up to me. Maybe it was because she and I rarely spoke, or maybe Tommy had warned her not to say anything. I don’t know, and I never asked.

Nancy had passed away a few years ago – a couple years after my own mother passed. Either way, we never had that conversation about my daughter, for which I was relieved.

Over the years, I have learned the art of not answering a question that I don’t want to answer. I simply answer a different question, or I change the subject. For example, if someone asks me who the pictures of the beautiful auburn-haired girl on the mantel who looks so much like me is, I redirect their attention to something else.

Until one day that beautiful auburn-haired girl, now a woman, showed up on my driveway.

Chapter 2

Icouldn’t redirect my attention to anything else when my 34 year old daughter, Brooke, stood in front of me on my gravel and dirt driveway in mid-February around dinnertime. Clouds had obscured the stars in the night sky.

I had no idea of what to say to her. The last time I saw her, she had been a baby, and I was 16, giving her up for adoption to a couple who dearly wanted a child.

I had wanted to keep her, but my mother insisted that I was a child myself, and that I had no business trying to raise a baby when I hadn’t even finished high school. I remember feeling that my heart broke twice that winter – once from my boyfriend moving away before I could tell him about the baby, and the second time losing the little person I had yet to know.

I had no idea what happened to my baby girl until her adopted mother began writing me several years later. I guessed the adoption agency gave her my mother’s address, which had been forwarded to me.

Evidently, Brooke, my birth daughter, had been rushed to the emergency room after a bad fall on the playground. The hospital had tried to give her certain medicines, but she had a severe reaction. So, she wanted me to tell her about my medical history, and any information I had on Brooke’s birth father.

She also, kindly, sent me pictures with a strong but gentle reminder that this was her daughter, to whom I had no claim. She had not given me her address – instead, she had me reply via a post office box, and only gave her first name.

My mother’s requirement regarding the adoption was that my daughter’s first name begin with a B for the family tradition. Each generation began with the next letter in the alphabet. My mother’s generation began with Z – her name was Zinetta. My generation began the alphabet over again with A.

I believe my mom even insisted on seeing the birth certificate to make sure before she would let me sign the adoption papers. That’s how I knew my daughter’s name was Brooke.

My mother refused to tell me the last name. She said I didn’t need to know. I always felt she was wrong.

Brooke stood before me in worn blue jeans, a plain navy hoodie sweatshirt peeking out of her heavy navy hooded coat, and matching navy gloves. Her clothes weren’t cheap, but looked lived in and comfortable.

Her hair was a beautiful deep auburn, her eyes were green, and she wore a garnet ring on her right hand. The ring was a representation of her powers. The garnet helped with manifestation, healing, and self-worth.

I knew she would be wearing a garnet ring, because my bracelet boasted a garnet in it now. I was the keeper of the magical keys for my family, which I inherited on my aunt’s death several weeks ago. This entailed me having an instant tattoo showing a separate key with each person’s name on it who had come into their powers in my family.

The keys were supposed to be generational, except that my mother’s clause only mentioned binding powers of the next generation if they had been born to a couple who had been wedded.

I hadn’t been married when I was in high school. But then, neither had my sister when she gave birth in her 30s to her son – probably because she hadn’t been talking to the father of said child at the time, but that’s another story. Hmmm. My nephew’s powers might make their presence known as his birthday was coming up and soon – I would have to think on that.

At any rate, the tattoo appeared to most people as a gold bracelet with a few stones in it. Currently, just mine, which was an amethyst, and now Brooke’s which was a garnet. My sister, Arielle was due for a birthday in the next week, so I was expecting another stone to be popping up any day now. I hoped her son didn’t get his powers as well, but that was an issue for another day.

I brought my brain back to the present moment, as Brooke handed me the peridot I had given her in a dream. I can’t believe that actually worked, said Brooke.

I can’t believe you’re here. You are really here, I replied, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes.

Yeah, I’m here, she responded inadequately, and bit her lower lip, just like I always did.

Lilah, my eastern screech owl familiar, sat on my shoulder. She flew towards Brooke, letting out a whinny, as if from a miniature horse, and settled briefly on Brooke’s shoulder. She stared at Brooke, whinnied again softly in approval, and flew back to