Vampires and Wine Books 4-6 (EBOOK BUNDLE)

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CHAPTER 1 of Book 4, Witches’ Magic.

I loved the roar of the waves crashing on the beach at Lighthouse Bay. It was a comforting sound, but now, as I walked along the beach sinking my toes into the wet sand, I was anything but comforted. After all, in the short time I had been in Lighthouse Bay, I had escaped death on more than one occasion.
I looked up at the rapidly gathering clouds and decided I should head back to Mugwort Manor. I had heard one too many stories about lightning striking people on the beach before the storm had even arrived.
Perhaps others had the same thought, because the beach was rather deserted, unusual for this time of day. A young couple jogged with an overly enthusiastic blue cattle dog, and a woman with a miniature poodle snatched it up out of their path.
My regular walks along the beach helped me process everything that had happened to me recently. My aunts had summoned me from the rapid pace of the city to the quieter life at Lighthouse Bay, quieter if you don’t count the homicide factor. They wanted me to manage their Bed and Breakfast establishment, an establishment that didn’t serve breakfast, the irony of which was lost on the aunts.
My aunts had told me I was a vampire, much to my shock, and had told me that vampires were not the bloodsucking creatures of myth, legend, and Hollywood. Still, that hadn’t helped me sink my teeth into the matter, no pun intended.
They had neglected to tell me what had happened to my parents, who had gone missing five years earlier. My aunts insisted they didn’t know, but I didn’t believe them. Call it a vibe.
And speaking of vibes, my right eye was twitching, a warning sign. I wondered if it was a warning of lightning, and cast a worried glance over my shoulder. Sure enough, the sky that had been blue and sparkling only minutes earlier was now black and threatening. I picked up speed, rounded the corner, and nearly fell over my cat.
“Hecate!” I exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
The cat, of course, did not respond, but sat and regarded me with wide yellow eyes. I stroked her back for a while, until she lost interest in my attentions. She then hissed and ran back in the direction of the manor.
Now I was convinced that something was afoot, and it was probably more than thunder. Had there been earthquakes in these parts? I had read that animals reacted strangely just before an earthquake hit.
As I walked past Lucas O’Callaghan’s cottage, I looked for any sign of occupation, despite the fact I knew he was at his winery, the winery that made Witches’ Brew. Witches’ Brew tasted like wine to a normal person, but actually was a potent brew with just the right amount of specific nutrients that vampires needed.
I was surprised that Barnabas Butler was not at his usual post, in a chair with his easel just outside the gate to the jungle-themed cottage. A new guest, Barnabas Butler was a watercolourist, the starving-artist-in-the-garret type. When I had asked him where he sold his paintings, he had given me a lengthy and boring lecture about money being the enemy of art. I would have been worried if he hadn’t paid for his accommodation in advance.
My skin was prickling, although I put that down to the electricity in the air. I heard the first crack of thunder in the distance. Thunderstorms always carried a feeling of anticipation, although I wasn’t entirely convinced that the weather was responsible for the way I felt. I usually enjoyed the scent of the breeze preceding a thunderstorm and the fragrance of the plants which seemed to be amplified at those times.
Aunt Dorothy was at the back of the manor, tending to the kale in her vegetable garden. She looked up when she saw me, and waved a gloved hand.
I was about to return her greeting, when Hecate hissed and sprinted around the side of the house.
“Follow that cat, Valkyrie!” Aunt Dorothy said. “Something’s wrong, you mark my words.”
I shrugged and did as she asked. I had given up asking the aunts to call me Pepper. They always insisted on using my legal name, Valkyrie.
The black cat certainly was acting strangely. Her fur was standing on end, and she was prowling as if stalking something. There were no birds or mice in front of her, at least not that I could see. I walked around the side of the manor, stubbing my big toe on one of the flagstones and cursing loudly as I fell headfirst into the wall. I disentangled myself from the jasmine vines and looked down to see the edge of one of my toenails had broken off. Beach sandals were no match for this pathway.
The crows overhead were noisier than usual, and the butcher birds were making a loud commotion.
I rounded the corner, and watched as Hecate approached what looked to be a large bag of rubbish that someone had dumped on the porch.
Only a few more steps, and I gasped.