 CHAPTER ONE “One last little drop and…” I carefully used the dropper to add the final ingredient, holding my breath so I didn’t add too much. A single drop of red liquid went in the bottle and when it hit the rest of the liquid, it turned a vibrant green. “Oh yeah, I’m good,” I said, grinning in satisfaction. Aidan stared at me, eyes wide. “How do you do that? No one has been able to get that potion right.” Stoppering the bottle, I gave it a shake. “Natural talent.” Aidan snorted in response. He was just jealous. I was the best potion maker in the country, maybe even in the world and he knew it. Which begged the question, why was I working out of the back of an old restaurant, hiding my talent, when I could be making the big bucks. Well, I knew why. Witches had to be careful in this city. The supernatural authorities liked to keep a close eye on us, making sure we didn’t overstep the mark. One witch got caught hexing someone a few months back and they threw her in prison for two years. I mean sure it was a well known goblin leader she was hexing, but that was uncalled for. The general rule was as long as you aren’t doing anything to those in charge, they don’t really give a shit. “How much do you think you’ll get for it?” I asked, handing the bottle to Aidan. He held it up to the light for a better look. “Uh, maybe three hundred. If we’re lucky.” “Well, get lucky, I’d like to eat this week.” With a nod, Aidan placed the bottle in a box and left the kitchen. It was an odd setup, but it could be a lucrative one if you played your cards right. Aidan was a witch too, but he didn’t have much in the way of natural talents. He was good at finding buyers though, which was why I whipped up the potions and he sold them for us. Fifty-fifty cut for each of us. Grabbing a cloth, I started mopping up any spilt ingredients from earlier. Despite the fact this entire building was condemned, I always took the time to make sure my workspace was clean. Potions were delicate things. One wrong move, or any kind of contamination could mess it up. And I wouldn’t be accused of shoddy work. “Not that it matters with poison,” I muttered. Okay, my natural talent involved some very specific types of potions. The contents were untraceable and depending on what was used, they could make it look like someone died of natural causes. I wasn’t a monster, I didn’t whip them up for anyone. Right now, there was a lot of rumblings with the vampires, they were constantly trying to expand their territory and killed anyone who got in their way. No one would miss a few of them. Taking on a vamp one on one was pretty much a death sentence unless you had super strength, and the resistance group who bought the poison didn’t. They were just trying to protect their families. A drop of my potion would desiccate a vamp, leave him a shrivelled mess, easy to stake. I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. Grabbing my case, I started packing my things inside. As I picked up my mini cauldron, my hand shook slightly. Pausing, I took a deep breath, running my hand through my short, black and red streaked hair. It was moments like this I found it difficult to get Sarah’s face out of my head. My little sister. Murdered by vampires, along with our parents when I was only a kid. Not that I knew the vamps were responsible at the time. I found out much later. Years ago, Sarah spotted the cauldron in a junk store and begged Mom to buy it for me. She knew I would like it. It was cast iron and excellent for potion brewing. Of course at the time, we were playing, I had no real idea about potion making. That came later too. If I had some of these potions at my disposal back then, maybe I could have done something to save them. My phone rang, startling me. Pulling it from my pocket, I answered it. “Hello?” “Hi, is this...Aurora?” a woman asked. “Rory, but yeah. What can I do for you?” “Um, I got your number from a friend. She said you could help me with something.” Goddess, I hated the timid ones. They were always reluctant to get to the point. “What do you need?” I asked, tapping my fingers impatiently. “I don’t really want to discuss it over the phone. Someone could be listening. Could we meet somewhere. Please? I’ll pay anything.” That made me pay attention. Maybe I could squeeze a few extra bucks out of her. While most of my business was with Aidan, I did have personal clients that he didn’t need to know about. “Okay. You got a pen?” “Yes.” I reeled off my address to her. “Meet me in an hour.” “I will. Thank you.” She hung up. I admit I was a little intrigued by what she wanted, but it was probably just an abusive husband she wanted rid of. I got that a lot. Honestly, I could probably make that a full time job, but I didn’t kill humans. No matter how much they deserved it. But I could give her something to punish him or even make him leave. Packing up the rest of my stuff, I left the restaurant and headed east. I had given her my home address. Well, home wasn’t entirely accurate. It was an abandoned house I was staying in. The good thing was if there ever was an issue, if someone tried to send the authorities after me, I could just grab my stuff and bail. Nothing is ever permanent. Something my mom used to say. No shit. I reached the house about twenty minutes later. Checking there was no on else in the street, I cut down and alley, climbed a fence and came into the house through a window at the back. I had to be careful. It would only take the wrong nosey neighbor to report me and I’d be chased out. The house was a two storey, five bedroom Victorian that was abandoned because of structural issues. So far, it seemed to be holding up well. The chain-link fence around the front stopped anyone from getting too close and I got to stay here until they decided to tear it down. Shame. It looked like it could have been a great place to live once upon a time. The kitchen was a lost cause, hence why I worked out of the restaurant, but there were some rooms at the front of the house that were fine. Dumping my bag in the room I slept in, I headed back downstairs and lit some candles. No electricity was a bitch too. The front room still had some furniture in it, so I used it the most. I gave it a quick tidy, then moved to the window to watch for her. At almost exactly the hour, a silver sedan pulled up. I moved to the back door, opened it and made my way around. She couldn’t exactly walk in the front door. The woman was in her forties, wearing a crumpled navy suit and a string of pearls. She looked like some PTA mom. Looking up at the house, her brow creased in confusion and I saw her check a piece of paper in her hand. I whistled and her head whipped up. Motioning for her to follow me, I didn’t wait to see if she did. I headed back inside. A few minutes later, she came in through the back door, moving slowly. “Is this your house?” she asked. “Technically? It will do for now. Come through.” I lead her to the living room which looked almost normal compared to the rest of the house. A loud creak came from above us and the woman’s head whipped up. She was jumpy. “Are we alone?” she asked, playing with the pearls. “Yes. It’s just the house settling.” Or collapsing. Fifty-fifty on that. “What do you want?” She tore her gaze from the ceiling and looked at me. Then she looked around the room, her eyes landing on a few potion bottles on the table by the window. She moved slowly toward them, her hand brushing the table, but she didn’t pick any up. “I heard you specialize in...potions that can take care of problems.” More dancing around the subject. What was she asking for? “Depends. What do you want?” She turned to face me, her gaze steady. Something was off about her. The voice on the phone was nervous, this woman was not that. Not really. More alert. She stood straight, arms by her side, body tense. I learned to read body language a long time ago, you had to when you grew up in care. Something was up with her. “I need to deal with someone who is bothering me. A co-worker.” Co-worker? That didn’t sound right either. How could a co-worker be so bad that she had to come to me. “Have you tried changing jobs?” I suggested, then kicked myself. If she was willing to pay, why was I trying to talk her our of it. Still, that doubt persisted. “Unfortunately, that’s not an option. I need something that will...put him out of work. So to speak.” I was starting to wonder if she was some undercover fed at this point. Like she wanted me to admit to something, but I didn’t know what. “Look, the best I can do is give you something with a really strong laxative effect. Would that do it?” She pulled a face. “Not quite what I had in mind.” “Well, I guess you’ve been misinformed then.” The woman stared at me for a moment, then she sighed. “I guess so.” She adjusted her jacket and headed for the door. I followed her and let her back out. “Good luck with…” But she was already out the gate. “Whatever.” Weirded out, I closed the door and locked it. Something was definitely up with her. I needed to be careful. Maybe its time to move again.  Kat Gracey writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance novels featuring her two favorite supernatural beings - witches and werewolves.
She currently resides in the UK, where she enjoys yoga and catching up on her favorite shows. You can learn more about her books via her website: https://www.witchesandwerewolves.co.uk
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 “Mum, Declan won’t stop teasing me,” Ciara whined, pointing a pudgy finger at me. Mum looked up from the washing and gave me a familiar glare. “Declan, stop torturing your sister. When are you two going to learn to play nice?” “Never,” I muttered under my breath. Why would I want to spend time with my bratty ten-year-old sister? She was always breaking my stuff, then blaming me. Then she would tattle to Mum when I yelled at her. When Mum turned to place the clothes in the washing basket, I drew my finger across my throat at Ciara. “Mum!” Ciara whined again. “Enough. I can’t listen to the two of you anymore. Go outside and play.” We left the house and headed to the trees at the bottom of the garden. Our house was out of the way, miles from anything. Mum let us play in the woods, as long as we didn’t wander too far. Not that I listened. The further away I got from Ciara, the better. Taking off, I headed for the small river which ran along the back of the property, I started building a dam out of rocks and old boards and I wanted to finish it. Actually, I’d much rather be playing video games but since I couldn’t, this was at least a way to entertain myself. Just as I reached the river, a voice rang out. “Declan! Where are you going?” I swore under my breath. Couldn’t she leave me alone for five minutes? “Go play with your dolls, Ciara,” I snapped. “I want to go with you,” she insisted. Rolling my eyes, I ignored her and started looking for new items to add to the dam. If I didn’t talk to her, she would soon get bored and leave. I dug a rock out of the dirt, a big one. Hefting it, I moved to my dam. Only three feet across, it wouldn’t take long to finish it. I glanced at the riverbank as cold water seeped into my trainers. Ciara had disappeared. Weird, thought she’d make more of a fuss. After placing my rock where I wanted it, I climbed back out, looking up and down the bank. Where did she go? An uneasy feeling washed over me. If she hurt herself, I would be the one to get in trouble. Mum would blame me for wandering too far, even though no one asked her to follow me. “Ciara!” I yelled. “Where are you?” No reply. She probably went back to the house, but if she didn’t… “For feck’s sake,” I muttered, trudging along the bank. If she was hiding, I would push her into the bloody river. Laughter up ahead alerted me to where she was. I left the trees to find a field beyond it. About twenty feet away stood a small mound covered in wildflowers and Ciara stood on top of it. “Look what I found,” she said, throwing her arms out. “Mum says they’re called fairy mounds. She showed me a picture.” “Fairies? Seriously? Don’t be so stupid!” I sneered. Imagine believing in fairies at her age. Ciara pouted and crossed her arms, her blonde pigtails blowing in the breeze. “They are real.” Rolling my eyes, I climbed onto the mound, my trainers sinking into the soft earth. “Go back to the house before you fall and break your neck.” I tried to grab her am, to drag her down, but she jumped back out of my reach. “No! I want to see a fairy and I’m not leaving until I do.” Rubbing my nose with the back of my hand, I could feel myself getting angry with her. “They’re not real.” “Yes, they are.” “Okay, fine.” I raised my voice. “If fairies exist, show yourselves. Come on! Don’t be shy.” “Stop it, Declan.” “Come on, fairies. Come and get me!” I screamed. Of course, nothing happened. Laughing wickedly, I climbed down. “Do what you want.” I headed back to the river to finish my dam. *** I looked up to find that the sun was starting to set. Confused, I looked around. I was just at the river, but now I found myself standing back in the field with the fairy mound. “What the hell?” I muttered. I couldn’t have been out here that long. It was lunch time when we left the house. The sun didn’t go down until after nine. Shaking my head, I started walking back towards home. I must have completely zoned out, Mum would kill me for staying out so long. Where’s Ciara? She probably got home hours ago. Mum would lose it and I’d be grounded for weeks. Breaking into a jog, I realised it wouldn’t make much of a difference given how late I already was. I can’t spend the summer locked in the house. Maybe I could tell her that I got lost, but she probably wouldn’t believe me. The house came into view and I hurried to the back door, but it was locked. Running around to the front door, I skidded to a halt. Dad was getting out of the car with Ciara…did she get her hair cut? It used to hang down her back, but now it fell to her chin. I’m missing all day and she gets taken out for a haircut? Ciara spotted me and let out a small scream. My eyes went to Dad, who had a stunned expression on his face like I was the last person he expected to see. “What?” I asked, annoyed at being stared at. “G-get your Mum,” Dad said to Ciara. She headed for the door, staring at me the whole way. She opened the door and screamed, “Mum!” Dad stepped around the car, walking slowly towards me. “Declan?” he whispered. “What? Why is everyone acting weird? I know I was gone a long time, I just lost track of time.” Mum came to the door, wearing a dressing gown and slippers. She looked washed out. Was she sick? She was fine earlier. “Ciara? What…?” She saw me and her eyes went wide, her mouth dropping open. “D-Declan?” I shifted uncomfortably. Something was seriously off. She lunged at me, wrapping me in a bear hug. “Oh thank God. My baby, you’re home.” “What’s the big deal? I’ve only been gone a few hours,” I said, trying to break free from her grip. “A few hours?” Dad sputtered, still rooted to the spot. I could see tears in his eyes. Dad never cried. Mum looked at me, her hands on my cheeks. “Declan, baby, you’ve been gone for a year.”  USA Today Bestselling Author S. K. Gregory writes urban fantasy, paranormal romance and horror stories. Rarely seen without a pen in her hand, she loves writing about supernatural worlds and the creatures that live within them.
An avid reader and chocoholic, she has been creating fantasy worlds since she was a child. When she isn’t writing, S. K. enjoys binge-watching her favorite shows and hanging out with family and friends. To learn more and to keep up to date with her latest book releases, you can follow her Facebook page here: www.facebook.com/authorskgregory or check out her website: www.skgregory.com  RamoraDebbie Manber Kupfer Ramora stood on the peak of Manus Wu. It had taken her six hours to climb the slope, but finally she’d arrived. She took a deep breath and gazed down into the valley below. By now her mother would be preparing the evening meal. She wondered if she’d even noticed Ramora was gone. From this high up, it felt like she could reach out and touch the clouds. She sat down and waited. The fairy had said she would come. She felt in her pockets for the vial of potion and the silver coin. Freedom – she would buy her freedom from the fairy. It was the only way. She gazed down at her mud-splattered dress, so impractical for climbing the mountain. No matter, the fairy had promised her riches – dresses of spun silk, pearls, and emeralds. She would have no need for this old rag anymore. She had first met the fairy on the day she was summoned. Her mother and father had called her into the drawing room on the morning of her twelfth birthday. It was time, they said, she was to be betrothed. The gentleman sitting in the drawing room was three times her age and gazed at her like a piece of meat. He was a merchant from the market, by the name of Rodwin. He had a cruel look in his eyes as he appraised his bride-to-be. “She will do,” he said. Ramora felt warm tears rolling down her cheeks, but she said nothing; there was nothing she could say. This was the custom in her village, and she was of age. The wedding was set three moons hence. “It’s not fair,” said Ramora to herself, as she sat several hours later on the Thinking Rock at the edge of the village. She watched an eagle soar through the sky. “Oh, how I wish I could fly away from all this.” “Why so glum?” said a voice. “A maiden as young and beautiful as you should be happy, and yet you seem so sad.” Ramora looked up. The fairy was emerald green with tiny gossamer wings and beady yellow eyes. She hovered by Ramora’s side and smiled at the girl, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “I am to be married,” said Ramora. “Then you should be joyful,” said the fairy. “Is that not what every young woman wants?” “It is what my parents want.” “And a girl should always listen to her parents, oh yes!” said the fairy. “For if she does not, no good can come of her. But still, if a girl should want more, well maybe there is something a certain Teg, could do for her . . .” “Teg?” asked Ramora confused. She thought she’d heard the word once, but could not place it. “Ah, I see you don’t know me . . . I, on the other hand, have been watching you ever since the day you were born. Watching and waiting, watching and waiting . . .” “Waiting for what?” “For you to see me, of course, for I am Morgana. Morgana the Teg – the most powerful Teg in the whole of the universe, and that is a very big place. My sister Stella believes that she is the strongest, but she is wrong. Morgana has the greatest power.” “You don’t look very powerful,” said Ramora dismissively, gazing with disdain at the tiny, fluttering fairy. “Smart girl. That is because Morgana is currently between hosts. But you, dear, can help Morgana. And grateful Morgana will help you. With me you can have riches beyond imagination. With me you will not have to marry that boorish merchant. With Morgana you can be a princess and have your choice of princes from around the globe. And there is more . . .” “More?” “Don’t you think it a shame that one day you will die?” “Of course, but everyone dies, eventually, and I am young. I have years before I need to worry about that.” “Ah, but those years fly quickly. Tick tock, tick tock and before you know it you are old and spent. But it does not have to be. If you come to Morgana, you will never die. With me, you will live forever and ever and ever.” Ramora stared at the Teg. “Think about it. I will be watching. But one thing – you must make your decision before you marry. For my magic to work, you must be innocent. Morgana does not care for a soiled body. For Morgana you must be pristine.” And with that she disappeared. Want to read more? Join Debbie Manber Kupfer’s newsletter and download a free copy of Ramora.  Debbie Manber Kupfer grew up in the London. She has lived in Israel, New York and North Carolina and somehow ended up in St. Louis. She lives with her family including two very opinionated felines.
She works as a writer, editor, and puzzle constructor. She is the author of the young adult fantasy series, P.A.W.S. which features a secret international organization of shapeshifters. She has also written several children’s picture books including Adana the Earth Dragon and Esmeralda Grunch and the Red Tulip. She is the editor of the Sins of Time horror series and has stories in anthologies including Fauxpocalypse, 13 Candles, and Corvid19. When not writing or editing fiction she writes puzzles for Penny Press magazines, the Tribune newspaper, and has also published a book of puzzles, Paws 4 Logic with her son, Joey. She believes that with enough tea and dark chocolate you can achieve anything! Where to find Debbie: Paws4Thought: http://debbiemanberkupfer.wordpress.com/ Paws4Puzzles: http://paws4puzzles.wordpress.com/ Facebook Author page: https://www.facebook.com/DebbieManberKupferAuthor Amazon: http://author.to/DebbieManberKupfer Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7142164.Debbie_Manber_Kupfer Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/cRhORP Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/debbiepaws/ YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCjFGmnQLrtSBTkxa3BYddHA Facebook group – P.A.W.S. People: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1399907483420330 Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/debbie-manber-kupfer  For November and December, we will be exploring the Magical World of the Fae. With new interviews, excerpts and more, we will have new posts every Monday.
The Fae range from fairies, to sprites, to brownies and elves. There is so much variety and so many creatures to write about. Here in Ireland, we have many legends about fairies. Banshees are the most famous - a wailing woman who predicts the death of certain people by wailing at night. She is definitely one type of Fae you don't want to meet. Changelings are another type of Fae where a human baby is swapped for a Fae child. This was often used to explain disabilities a child may have had back then. The Fae are complicated and while a lot of them are not strictly bad, they are mostly seen as tricksters. They may help humans from time to time, but they always have a price. What are your favorite types of Fae? |
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About the Author:S. K. Gregory is an author, editor and blogger. She currently resides in Northern Ireland. “Description begins in the writer’s imagination, but should finish in the reader’s.” 
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