Hexed and Vexed

  Hexed and Vexed

  Rebecca Royce

  Copyright © 2017 by Rebecca Royce

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN: 9781947672109

  Contents

  Dearest Reader,

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  About the Author

  Other books by Rebecca Royce…

  Dearest Reader,

  Thank you so much for picking up Hexed and Vexed. If you have been following my career that long (and bless you if you have!), then you know that once upon a time, I had a short story published by the same name. Here’s the background: the publisher requested I write a short story. I had characters in my mind. With a limited word count, I told an amusing short story and that was that. But I never really felt satisfied with it. When the rights came back to me, I decided I would give the story another go as a full length novel.

  But that was years ago. Time does have a way of getting away, doesn’t it?

  So, I’m writing it again now. Nothing is the same except the title and the pink dress. The characters are different, the story different—there’s nothing the same. I just love the title. And that horrible pink dress.

  Also, I gratefully acknowledge the help of this website: https://www.thoughtco.com/magical-self-defense-and-protection-2562358 It taught me a ton about magical herbs. If you ever want to handle a hex, I suggest you check it out.

  If you’d like to stay in touch, please visit my website www.rebeccaroyce.com and sign up for my newsletter!

  Hugs,

  Rebecca Royce

  Chapter 1

  There were two fundamental problems with Ava’s sister’s wedding. The first was the puke pink dress her sister had picked out for Ava to wear because, to quote, “it was so darn cute on you, Ava.” She should have argued at the time. But Ava had still been reeling from problem number two, which included the announcement that not only had Ava’s ex-fiancé been invited to the ceremony, but he was bringing his new fiancée with him. Problem number two only made problem number one so much worse.

  Of course, none of that really mattered. At the end of the day, the fact Zoe Blakely married Elijah Pike was the most important part of the evening. Ava would endure anything for her younger-by-two-minutes twin sister. The puke pink dress and the ex-fiancé in attendance simply proved Ava’s love for Zoe.

  Besides, if anything, Ava had gotten used to being gawked at by the witch community over the last year. She hardly noticed the staring, the sneers, the laughter, or the name calling anymore. Being left at the altar had simply stiffened her already strong backbone.

  She hoped.

  “And now, as has been done for thousands of year at this altar, I pronounce your souls joined, your love for each other eternal, and your powers bound.”

  Tears came to her eyes while Zoe kissed Elijah, the two of them married not only in body, but also in soul. Witches married forever. Unlike their human counterparts, once they said yes, they couldn’t get out of the relationship. Or, as her mother, Lila, always corrected her, they didn’t want to.

  They would hear a click and feel each other deep within their souls.

  Not that Ava would know. She’d been left at this very altar a year earlier.

  But—she just had to keep reminding herself—none of that mattered right now. Zoe was marrying the love of her life. Elijah and Zoe were perfect for one another, and if Elijah came from a lower social circle than Zoe, Ava’s sister seemed not to care. She’d not cared so much, in fact, that she’d managed to push the marriage right through without even giving her parents a by your leave to object.

  Zoe was a force of nature. Maybe someday, some of her gumption would rub off on Ava. Maybe, but not likely. It hadn’t in twenty-five years. Her sister was lovely in her long, blue dress that traveled from the top of her neck down to the floor in the traditional witch-wedding design. A gold heirloom necklace passed down from Blakely woman to Blakely woman adorned the top of the design while the rest flowed beautifully to the ground. The fashion lately had been to wear a deeper color of blue for the wedding ceremony. Zoe had opted for the more traditional garb, and it suited her perfectly with her long, black hair, blue eyes, and perfect slender figure. Elijah stared at her as though he’d been gifted the greatest jewel in the universe. He was right, of course. Ava adored Zoe. She was everything that was good in the world. Kind, smart, successful, giving, funny—and a powerful spellcaster.

  By contrast, as anyone staring at her pink dress could see, Ava was round, like most of the women in her father’s family, and redheaded, like the women in her mother’s family. She was also without magic—a complete, genetic abnormality. And although that couldn’t be seen in the pink dress, every person in the room already knew it. For years, she’d been called the “worst witch in witching school.” Even after they’d graduated.

  She followed the newly married couple down the aisle, away from the thousand-year-old altar and the memories of having stood there alone, waiting for Mitchell Sharpe to come, only to find out he wasn’t ever coming because he’d given his heart to someone else.

  Her former love stared at her, his arm around his new fiancée, the very fabulous and talented Monica Whitt. They watched the procession, if procession was the right word to describe Ava and the married couple walking down the aisle—although the pink dress made it seem like there were at least three of her. His ambivalence, as though they’d never been more than acquaintances, burned.

  But the ceremony was over, and the party that followed had been designed to be everything a Blakely wedding should be. It would be the event of the year, and Ava wouldn’t do anything to disrupt that. Not ever. Zoe mattered more than anyone else.

  Ava stood with her best friend, Melanie, leaning against the far wall, watching the event around them.

  “Worst witch in witching school, you know. Wouldn’t have passed if her father hadn’t intervened.”

  Melanie rolled her eyes at the whisper brushing past them, and Ava could have hugged her for it. For ten years, just the same amount of time she’d been in love with Mitchell Sharpe, Melanie Syed had been her best friend. Her two Ms, as she’d once thought of them. She had one M now, and she’d never take her for granted. Back in high school, Ava would have punched whoever spoke to her like that. The Syeds weren’t technically high society, and it had been Melanie’s extreme talent that earned her entrance to their school on scholarship. These days, she made more money than anyone in the room, predicting stock trends and turning extreme magical intuition into dollar signs.

  The people in the room still thought they were above her. Ava put her arm on her shoulder. “It’s okay. I was the worst witch in witching school.”

  “Don’t you dare start using that phrase. But seriously, Ava, don’t some of these people realize it’s too cold to be so naked? Why bother putting on clothes if they’re not going to cover anything?”

  Ava had been saying that for years. Melanie wore a long gold gown finished with scoop earrings that showed off her long neck. Ava had always thought Melanie had a bit of a swan-like quality to her.

  “It’s because Monica
never wears clothes.” Ava cut Melanie off before she could interrupt. “It’s okay for me to say her name. She’s marrying Mitchell. She designs the best witch clothes. She’s fashionable, beautiful, and has worked her way into high society, which, as you know, you mostly have to be born into. She’s the it girl, and she hardly wears clothes that cover her rear end. That’s how she designs, too. I mean look at her.”

  Ava turned her attention to Mitchell and Monica—the new Ms—as she’d wanted to do since the party started. They were speaking to Ava’s parents, Lila and Emilio, like they were old friends. Lila laughed at something Mitchell said. In private, Ava’s parents scorned Mitchell. But it wouldn’t do to have a Blakely scorn a Sharpe in public. Oh no, they always had to put on a show.

  Just then, the door to the room flew open, letting all of the cold air in. Ava’s father could control the weather with his powers. He’d worked a spell to stop it from snowing, but unless he wanted to sacrifice something, he couldn’t make it warmer. The family had all been stuck with the weather as it was for this event since he’d used up his last sacrifice by ritually executing a goat for the engagement party. The rules were clear—one sacrifice per six months. Of course, that event had been outside so it had been deemed more important.

  Two men flew into the room, their feet never touching the ground. They were spellcasting hard, and a collective gasp filled the room. That much power wasn’t used in polite society. People dabbled together; they didn’t show off.

  But then again, the two men who had flown through the doors wouldn’t be at all interested in showing off to anyone. Ava had gone to school with both Lawson Abramowitz and Stefan Miller. They had left school early, taken by the government to work as Enforcers. Their job was to hunt bad witches. They worked in secret, their real lives a mystery, and people feared them wherever they went. To be accused by an Enforcer of breaking a witching law was to be, at worst, put to death or, at best, shunned. Some people might prefer the first.

  Ava hadn’t seen either of them in two years. They’d both come into her shop for a potion. Stefan hadn’t acknowledged her at all while Lawson had paid, nodded, and disappeared back out the door. She’d never had a problem with either of them. They weren’t the taunting type.

  Of course, the question remained: what were they doing coming through the door at her sister’s wedding? They’d not been invited…

  “I need Ava Blakely, and I need her right now.”

  Ava’s father, Emilio, shot forward. “What is the meaning of this? My daughter has done nothing to gain your attention. She can’t even do a spell.”

  Gratitude for her father’s defense settled on her spine, warring against the need to cringe that once again it had been pointed out that Ava was downright defunct—in public.

  Stefan swore. “Son of a moon drugged bug, we don’t have time for this.”

  Lawson grabbed his arm. “Your daughter is not in trouble. Listen up, partygoers, Ava Blakely is not in any trouble. We need her to consult on a case. She has done nothing wrong. We’d not be here if it wasn’t an emergency.”

  Ava sucked in her breath. They wanted her to do what? Melanie grabbed her arm. “Steady. They can’t make you go anywhere with them. They just said you’re not in trouble.”

  “Why do you need her?” Mitchell moved forward, and Ava’s breath quickened. Was he going to help her? Did he care? “She can’t do anything. She was the worst witch in witching school.”

  The room spun, and Ava thought for a second she might faint. In all their time together, Mitchell had never once called her the never-going-away nickname. In fact, he’d beaten someone else for saying it. Anger fueled her through the dizzy and forced her to straighten her spine. She would not be brought down by that man, not again.

  If the Enforcers needed help, then they would get it from her. Although, she had no idea what she could do exactly.

  She stormed through the crowd toward the men. At the very least, she had to get them out of her sister’s wedding reception.

  “Ava,” Zoe called out, horrified, “don’t go with them.”

  “I’ll be fine, Zo-Zo,” Ava called back. “They said I’m not in trouble. They need my help. People do all the time, you know.”

  Stefan didn’t react, but Lawson raised his eyebrows slightly. “Thank you,” the latter finally said. “Come on. There’s no time to waste.”

  It took Ava a minute to realize he meant for her to come with him. “I can’t float. No spellcasting. Worst witch in witching school.” Sometimes it helped to actually say it aloud. Ownership of the phrase gave her power over it. Or at least she pretended it did.

  Stefan rolled his eyes. “School was over five years ago. These people…”

  “Not here. Not now.” Lawson extended his hand to Ava. “Come on. I’ve got you.”

  Ava stared at his outstretched offering and didn’t move. All gazes in the room were on her. The last thing she could handle was to be dropped straight on her rear. “I’m kind of a big girl.”

  Lawson rolled his eyes. “You’re tiny. Although that pink thing makes you look ten times bigger. Did you lose a bet?”

  “She looks adorable in pink,” Zoe sobbed from somewhere in the crowd.

  Lawson must have had enough because before she could say a word, Lawson scooped her up into his arms like she was a heroine from one of those human movies she occasionally snuck out to see in their cinemas. He followed that move by floating her, at top speed, from the room and out into the night air. The cold struck her hard.

  If she’d thought she was cold by the altar, she hadn’t really understood the definition.

  “Stefan, go back in and get her coat.”

  The other man shook his head. “No way. I’m allergic to those people.”

  “Hey!” Whatever else they were, at least half of the people inside were Ava’s family. “First off, I don’t have a coat. Zoe said it didn’t go with the outfit. Second, watch your mouth.”

  “You don’t have a coat?” Lawson rolled his eyes. “Hold on.” Mid-air, he shoved his coat off his shoulders and wrapped Ava in it before readjusting her back into the position she’d been in. She had to weigh a ton, but if he didn’t complain, Ava wasn’t going to point it out.

  Stefan pointed at him. “You’d better be right. All I see is another one of them and a pink puffy dress.”

  “I’m right.”

  Apparently, that was the last say on whatever this subject was because right after that statement, Stefan took off fast.

  She had to ask. “What do you need me for?” The shock of their party entrance wore off, and in its place was a fear she’d been lied to. What if they were arresting her for something? They could probably lie under their job description. They couldn’t be announcing their intent to every bad witch they dealt with.

  Lawson didn’t answer her, his gaze hard and focused on where he was going. She took the moment to study him. He was tall, always had been, but gone was the gangly boy he’d been. In his place was a sturdy, strong twenty-five-year-old man with a dark growth on his cheeks—not enough to be a beard but enough to indicate he hadn’t shaved—to match his nearly black eyes. His skin was pale in the moonlight but she knew from enough of their summers at school to know he’d tan during wave work in the ocean classes.

  He held her like she weighed nothing. Mitchell, who worked out regularly, had struggled to hoist her around the occasional times he’d been silly enough to want to do so. She wasn’t fat, but sturdy had always been the word that best described her.

  Stefan was still blond and pretty-looking. He had a cleft in his chin and a new scar over his left eyebrow she didn’t think had been there before.

  Fear settled deeper inside of her. These men weren’t to be trifled with. She hardly knew them. They’d barely been on speaking terms when they’d gone to the same school. She had avoided the sneers of others by spending all her time with Mitchell and Melanie. Now here she was, blasting through the air at speeds that would have anyone else arreste
d for having attempted them. Enforcers could act as they liked, as long as they did it within the witching colonies and stayed away from the humans.

  The humans didn’t like witches in their cities and witches didn’t want humans in theirs. Mostly, folks stayed away from each other, and it all worked okay. When it didn’t, people like the two with her now would be called in.

  Ava suddenly realized where they were going. “My shop?”

  Why were they headed to her business? Ava wasn’t good at many things. Her utter disastrous time in witching school when her powers didn’t show up meant she wasn’t fit for most post-graduate schools. Mitchell had become a professor of Runes. He could speak about them all over the world. Her sister was a lawyer, like their mother had been before she stopped to help their father’s political career.

  Ava had opened Pure Luck, thanks to a loan from her father. She sold potions, creams, and basic remedies for the things that ailed witches in their community. Ava couldn’t spellcast, but boy could she mix things together. She’d always had the knack for it.

  And it had turned out to be a good business. In the last year, while her relationship failed, her business had thrived. Coming in to gawk at her, people usually purchased something they didn’t realize they needed before they came through the door. She’d expanded into the shop next door. Her father thought maybe she should franchise, but Ava didn’t know how that would work. She had to touch every product she made to ensure it had the right feel.

  It wasn’t just mix this with that. Somehow, though everyone told her it was crazy, it was more.

  Stefan dropped to ground and burst through her back door that was apparently open. What was happening? Had someone robbed her? Was this what that was about?