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    Third Spell's the Charm. House of Magic 3.
    Third Spell's the Charm. House of Magic 3.
    Third Spell's the Charm. House of Magic 3.
    Ebook289 pages2 hours

    Third Spell's the Charm. House of Magic 3.

    By Susanna Shore

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    About this ebook

    Fire wasn’t exactly the intended outcome of a water spell, but with me, it was sadly inevitable.

    Phoebe’s new life as a mage hasn’t had an auspicious start. No matter how hard she tries, her spells fail spectacularly. How is she to impress her boss, Archibald Kane, if she keeps setting her hair on fire?

    Her problems with magic become trivial when a night out ends with a dead body. The victim has clearly been killed by a vampire, and the evidence points at Phoebe’s housemate Luca.

    The leader of London vampires, Morgan Hunt, is convinced Luca is guilty. To prove his innocence, Phoebe and Luca set out to solve the death. Was the victim random, or has an old enemy of Hunt’s returned? And how are they to unearth the enemy when Hunt has done his best to hide his past?

    Phoebe is an expert in digging up old things, but facing a powerful foe would be easier, if she had a hang of her spellcasting too. Luckily she has magical friends she can count on. And maybe the third spell turns out to be the charm after all.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSusanna Shore
    Release dateMar 27, 2022
    ISBN9789527061541
    Third Spell's the Charm. House of Magic 3.
    Author

    Susanna Shore

    Susanna Shore is a historian turned author. She writes Two-Natured London paranormal romance series, P.I. Tracy Hayes mysteries, The Reed Files crime capers, and House of Magic paranormal cozies, as well as stand-alone thrillers and contemporary romances.

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      Book preview

      Third Spell's the Charm. House of Magic 3. - Susanna Shore

      THIRD SPELL’S THE CHARM

      House of Magic 3

      Susanna Shore

      Third Spell’s the Charm

      Copyright © 2022 A. K. S. Keinänen

      All rights reserved.

      The moral right of the author has been asserted.

      No part of this book may be reproduced, translated, or distributed without permission, except for brief quotations in critical articles and reviews.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, dialogues, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, or persons, living or dead, except those in public domain, is entirely coincidental.

      This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Cover design © 2022 A. K. S. Keinänen

      Illustration, girl © Sergey Myakishev

      Editing: Lee Burton, Ocean’s Edge Editing

      www.susannashore.com

      Twitter: @SusannaShore

      Subscribe to Susanna’s newsletter.

      House of Magic

      Hexing the Ex

      Saved by the Spell

      Third Spell’s the Charm

      Magic by the Book

      P.I. Tracy Hayes Series

      Tracy Hayes, Apprentice P.I.

      Tracy Hayes, P.I. and Proud

      Tracy Hayes, P.I. to the Rescue

      Tracy Hayes, P.I. with the Eye

      Tracy Hayes, from P.I. with Love

      Tracy Hayes, Tenacious P.I.

      Tracy Hayes, Valentine of a P.I.

      Tracy Hayes, P.I. on the Scent

      Tracy Hayes, Unstoppable P.I.

      The Reed Files

      The Perfect Scam

      Two-Natured London Series

      The Wolf’s Call

      Warrior’s Heart

      A Wolf of Her Own

      Her Warrior for Eternity

      A Warrior for a Wolf

      Magic under the Witching Moon

      Moonlight, Magic and Mistletoes

      Crimson Warrior

      Magic on the Highland Moor

      Wolf Moon

      Magic for the Highland Wolf

      Thrillers

      Personal

      The Assassin

      Contemporary Romances

      At Her Boss’s Command

      It Happened on a Lie

      To Catch a Billionaire Dragon

      Which Way to Love?

      Table of Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-one

      Epilogue

      About the Author

      Magic by the Book, Excerpt

      Also by Susanna Shore

      Chapter One

      I set my hair on fire trying to conjure water. Not the intended outcome, but inevitable to my increasing aggravation.

      I’d twisted my hands and fingers into correct positions, and recited the required words of the spell, practically tasting the water already. The next thing I knew my hair was burning.

      I shrieked and lost concentration, which made the spell break. It didn’t quench the fire. That was done by Amber Boyle, who was teaching me spellcasting, with an elegant flick of her long fingers.

      Too late. The fire had singed a chunk of my long cinnamon hair that I’d foolishly left down. The stench of burnt hair made me gag and I dreaded to think what my hair looked like.

      That was not supposed to happen, Amber said, baffled by my inadequacy. A water spell is the opposite of a fire spell.

      You don’t say…

      We were sitting face to face on the polished wooden floor of the workroom in the attic of the House of Magic, a magic shop Amber owned with her wife, Giselle Lynn. The shop gave name to the entire building in Clerkenwell, Central London, where I was their lodger.

      Amber had drawn a protective circle on the floor with chalk and we were inside it. It was supposed to help me focus my magic and prevent accidents.

      Apparently it only prevented accidents outside it.

      I told you, this keeps happening, I said miserably.

      She tilted her head, making a shock of red curls sway. I bet she’d never accidentally burned her hair with a spell.

      She was thirty-eight, tall and reed thin, a former trauma nurse turned full-time magic shop keeper. She was also a mage. And not just any mage. She was the newly minted leader of the Mages’ Council that governed all the mages in London.

      I was twelve years younger, assistant to an arts and antiques dealer, and a newly minted mage. That was the assumption anyway.

      The entire world of magic, mages, and supernatural creatures was new to me. Two months ago, I’d accidentally triggered a curse meant for my boss, Archibald Kane. He was the owner of Kane’s Arts and Antiques and also a mage, and he’d had no choice but to reveal their existence to me.

      Then I’d learned that my great-aunt Beverly had been a mage too. It wasn’t exactly talked openly about with non-mages, and no one in my family knew about it. Since being a mage was hereditary and tended to be matrilinear, Kane had deduced that I must be one as well. I’d been delighted by the prospect of learning to cast spells, and he’d been sure I could learn, even though I was much older than mages usually were when they began.

      So far, I’d only managed to prove him wrong.

      It wasn’t for lack of qualified teachers. Amber and Giselle had been happy to help me learn the basics. They were good at it too. Giselle especially had great patience for a complete dunce like me.

      For the first three weeks, I’d mostly been reading about the inner workings of spells, how a spell didn’t create anything but manipulated existing elements—or molecules, according to modern magic theories—into taking new forms. The books were vague on how it was possible. No one really knew the answer, other than that the ability was something mages were born with. Without it, the spells wouldn’t take—ignite or catch, if you will—no matter how much you wiggled your fingers while incanting.

      We’d also meditated a lot. Since the ability to manipulate elements was inherent, a mage had to be able to access the place inside them where the potential for it resided. I wasn’t entirely sure I’d located mine yet.

      This week, we’d finally progressed to the practical aspect of being a mage: spellcasting. I’d imagined myself throwing spells around like Amber, Giselle, and Kane did, merely with some innate mage-ness that would impress everyone.

      Amber and Giselle had had other ideas.

      We’ll start with conjuring water. It’s the easiest spell, as it’s one of the basic elements, Amber had told me, then reconsidered: Or the molecules required for it are the most common and everywhere around us. Whichever theory you like to subscribe to.

      Also the gestures needed for it are the simplest, Giselle had added with her easy smile. Children start with it too.

      Turned out, their notion of easy wasn’t compatible with reality. I’d spent two evenings trying to bend and twist my fingers to the exact position needed for the spell. After I’d finally managed it to their satisfaction, I’d had to learn the incantation.

      That at least was a simple four-word spell, even if the words weren’t any real language but some sort of bastardisation of Latin. According to my teachers, most spells were like that—except the ones based on ancient Greek—which of course only applied to Western magic. Asian magic was mostly based on an old form of Chinese, and there were other traditions too, but I wouldn’t be learning those any time soon.

      Finally, it was time to put the pieces together to cast the spell. I needed to reach inside for the source of my ability while gesturing with my fingers and saying the words with intent, first aloud and then silently once I’d learned it.

      I’d been at it the entire Saturday, alone in the attic. At first, nothing had happened. It had vexed me, but then I’d concentrated anew, dug deep into myself for that special ingredient, and cast the spell with as much purpose as I could muster.

      Water should’ve appeared in the small bowl in front of me. Instead, my hand had burst into flames.

      Shrieking, I’d lost my concentration and the fire had died. Luckily there was some sort of failsafe to fire spells that prevented them from damaging the caster’s skin. But it had unnerved me, and for the next ten or so tries my spell hadn’t caught.

      Little by little, I’d begun to relax and concentrate better. That’s when the fires started again.

      First it was my other hand. Then it was a feather on the shelf where Amber and Giselle kept their potion ingredients—the smell was awful—and lastly, the notebook for my magic notes. It was in cinders before I even realised it was on fire. Only the tiny magnet that kept the lid closed remained in the pile of ash.

      It truly vexed me, and not merely because it was a month’s work lost. It had been a really nice hardcover notebook I’d bought from the gift shop in the British Museum, with a picture of The Great Wave Off Kanagawa by Hokusai on the cover.

      The irony wasn’t lost on me.

      I’d admitted my defeat, and asked Amber to help. We’d gone through the basics once more, and then she’d asked me to cast the spell again. With the aforementioned result.

      There must be something wrong with your focus, because I can’t detect any mistakes in your casting. We’d best meditate. Try to concentrate on the magic inside you.

      She tugged the knees of her yoga trousers and settled more comfortably—or as comfortably as one could sitting cross-legged on a polished wooden floor. She closed her eyes and rested her wrists on her knees, palms up.

      I mirrored the position. I hadn’t meditated before Amber and Giselle had made me, and I wasn’t sure I was doing it right. But I tried to calm my mind, and concentrated on my breathing like she’d instructed.

      Do you feel a spark inside you? she asked when we’d breathed calmly for a couple of minutes.

      My stomach growled, and I cringed, opening my eyes. Amber rolled hers, an impressive feat considering she kept them closed.

      Ignore the hunger. Let your mind float until you feel it being pulled somewhere. Then follow it to the source. That’s where your magic resides. Study it. It has to become as familiar to you as your breathing.

      She’d said the same the first time we did this, and a couple of times since. Problem was, I didn’t feel anything pulling my mind. There was nothing inside me.

      You have the spark, Amber said, as if reading my mind. You couldn’t set things on fire if you didn’t. You simply need to give it room to emerge. It’s a bit shy, so you have to quiet your mind to let it become willing to show itself.

      As far as visualisations went, that actually helped. I ignored my hunger—easier said than done when the scents of Giselle’s dinner preparations reached the attic—and pushed every emotion and sensation away: the hard floor under my bottom, my disappointment and frustration, the fear that I wouldn’t be a mage after all.

      Nothing happened for the longest time. But I waited with more patience than before, maintaining the emptiness of my mind, pushing away the unpleasant sensations like my legs going numb.

      And then, between the thin line of awake and not quite asleep, a tug. Or more like a faint flutter that clearly had a direction. Deeper.

      Fearing I would lose it, I reached for it and cast the water spell. Too fast. The sensation disappeared, burying itself in the chaos that was my mind once more.

      Disappointment made bile rise to my mouth, and I squeezed my eyes tightly so my tears wouldn’t show.

      Amber cleared her throat, and I opened my eyes.

      Your hair is on fire again, Phoebe.

      Giselle had to cut me bangs. My hair was so badly damaged at the front that it was the only solution.

      I look like I’m fifteen, I sighed, staring at my face in the bathroom mirror. My hazel eyes were miserable under the encroaching hairline, and my face looked alien to me. I hadn’t had a fringe since I was in school and was required to keep my hair in braids to go with the uniform.

      Better fifteen than fifty-five, Giselle said mercilessly, chocolate eyes twinkling and dimples deep with suppressed laughter. She was forty-one, shortish with soft curves, her steel grey hair in a pixie cut I found myself envying. Anything was better than the fringe.

      She patted me on the shoulder. You’ll get used to it. Now, let’s go eat dinner before it’s ruined.

      We cleaned the bathroom of the evidence of my incompetence, though I now carried it on my face, and I pulled my hair into a ponytail. It helped a little.

      At least your handiwork is neat, I said to Giselle as we headed down the stairs.

      Giselle flashed me her easy smile. I used to be a hairdresser.

      I didn’t know that.

      She made a dismissive gesture. It’s not something I remember often. It’s been … almost twenty years since I made a career change to become a cook, before giving that up and becoming a full-time witch after I inherited the shop and this house from my aunt.

      Witches, unlike mages, could be ordinary humans too, as it was mostly about potions and herbs. Giselle was both.

      You’re an excellent cook too.

      The rent included meals, which she prepared. After two months of living here, my clothes had started to feel tight, even though I’d added running to my exercise routine.

      Laughing, Giselle crossed the short hallway that doubled as the entrance hall. It opened to a combined kitchen and living room, the two separated by a sturdy oaken dining table that seated ten.

      The house was narrow and tall. The shop was on the ground floor, with a basement below and the kitchen and living room right above. Giselle’s and Amber’s quarters were on the floor above that, and the top floor, before the attic, had two bedrooms and a bath for lodgers, of which I was one. The other was Ashley Grant, a firefighter in her early thirties. She was also a werewolf.

      That had taken some getting used to.

      The kitchen was cosy and functional, and the living room was filled with Victorian sofas, some of them genuine, floor lamps with tasselled shades, occasional tables, and doilies on every surface. Giselle’s aunt had loved crocheting. Two bay windows faced the busy high street below.

      The table had already been set for five, which meant the whole household would be present. That didn’t often happen. Ashley had twenty-four-hour shifts, after which she usually slept the next day, and Luca only attended the meals served after sunset.

      He was a vampire, to my great disbelief. That had taken even more getting used to, especially since I’d never witnessed him do anything vampiric, like show his fangs. His teeth were perfectly ordinary.

      However, I had seen him cast impressive spells when we were chased by a hellhound, so I knew he wasn’t a mere human. And he avoided the sun at all costs.

      He resided in the basement, where he had a studio flat with its own bathroom and boarded-over windows to keep the sunlight out. He supported himself with poker and stock trading, both online, and at nights he helped at the shop, which was kept open late for those customers who couldn’t face daylight either.

      I heard him and Amber climb up the stairs from the shop. It closed for dinners, freeing them both to attend. Luca reached the kitchen first.

      He wasn’t a tall man, only an inch taller than my five-seven, with a tight, muscled body. He looked like a carefree surfer with a handsome, angular face, sandy blond hair he usually kept in a short ponytail, and laughing green eyes. Only the tan was missing—for obvious reasons. He seemed to be about my age, but if I were to believe him, he was over a hundred years old.

      Tonight though, the hair was down and casually tousled. He wore slim-fit, steel-grey trousers with a silvery sheen, and a black mesh T-shirt that revealed all the muscles of his impressive torso.

      I’d never seen him exercise, so maybe vampires came with a physique like that. Or maybe he went to a twenty-four-hour gym at nights.

      He paused abruptly when he spotted me. Why aren’t you dressed? And what the hell happened to your hair?

      I looked baffled at my black leggings and the soft, long-sleeved T. Since I had no answer for the first question, I answered the latter: A mishap with a spell. What do you mean, dressed?

      I sent you several messages, he said, exasperated. Didn’t you read any of them?

      I took a seat at the table. I’ve literally been in the attic the whole day. I didn’t have my mobile with me.

      Amber had confiscated it to ensure my unwavering focus. She pulled it out of her pocket now and handed it to me.

      No one called the whole day.

      That was a surprise. My parents usually called on Saturdays, and my girlfriends too, as we were too busy on weekdays for anything other than quick messages.

      What were your messages about? I asked Luca, opening my phone to check if my friends or parents had left any. The only ones were from Luca. He hadn’t exaggerated the number of them. There were at least ten.

      I need you to be my wingman tonight.

      Chapter Two

      I sat straight, stunned. Me? I tilted my head, taking in his appearance with renewed appreciation.

      Explains the clothes though. You don’t need a wingman looking like that.

      A slow grin spread on his face and he twirled, giving me a good look at the backside too. Very nice.

      It’s mating season for vampires, he stated, making Amber sputter and cough out the water she’d just sipped. It’s finally dark enough that I can party to the morning.

      I don’t have the energy to party all night, I groaned. He gave me a slow look.

      You’re twenty-six. Of course you have the energy.

      He wasn’t wrong, and I liked to dance too, but that wasn’t the issue here. I’ve been learning magic the whole day. It’s exhausting.

      Every spell drained the caster’s energy. The bigger the spell, the more it drained, although greater mages could cast more of the bigger ones in a row. Even though my spells hadn’t had the desired outcome, I was still spent.

      Can’t you take Ashley?

      Did I hear my name?

      The woman in question strode into the kitchen, immediately dwarfing the rest of us. She was six foot one and all muscle, strong enough to handle her physically demanding job even without the added benefit of being supernaturally strong.

      With sharp cheekbones, a straight, commanding nose, and strong black brows over dark eyes, she was a striking sight. Added to that were a bald head she shaved regularly, earrings down both lobes, and piercings in her left eyebrow. If you

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