Witch Is The New Black (Paris, Texas Romance #3)

“You’re a son of a bitch, Eddie.”


“Don’t be bitter, B,” he said softly as his serenely handsome face came into focus. “And don’t move too much. I’ve given you some play, but if you make a break for the doors over there—you’re toast. Also, there’s this. A little extra insurance in case one of your friends realizes you’re missing and thinks to look here.” He held up a black cylinder with a red button on top.

“And that is?” she managed to ask, fighting to keep her voice even.

“A bomb that I’ll detonate the moment someone even considers touching those doors.”

Oh sweet hell. “But won’t you blow up with me?”

Eddie eyeballed her and she would swear she was seeing madness. “Yep. But if I can’t have it, no one can.”

Have what? What was worth possible suicide?

Whatever “it” was, he was willing to die for it. Bernie’s breathing stopped, but she kept pushing words out anyway.

“Why did you rob the bank, Eddie? Why did you frame me?”

As she took a closer look, he appeared haggard, pale, almost listless when he gazed at her. “I wasn’t robbing the bank. I was getting something from the vault.”

“Something that wasn’t yours, I presume?”

“Ding-ding-ding. You win this round.”

“Why didn’t you just use your magic? Isn’t that how witches land in Baba Yaga’s jail? Using their magic for personal gain?”

A sigh puffed from his mouth, raspy and long. “Because I’m a warlock, and not a terribly powerful one, Bernie. I can’t do the things you can. I have immortality on my side. I can make things disappear. You know…the usual warlock fare. But I come from a very weak bloodline. One that gets little respect. But that’s all about to change. There’ll be no more mocking the wimpy warlock anymore.”

She took small consolation in his admission. Maybe she could out-magic him, bumbling wand-wielder that she was.

Sweat beaded her forehead and upper lip. “So what were you stealing if it wasn’t money?”

“A very valuable book—a book I’ve looked for ever since your mother’s best friend was tragically killed.”

That made her pause. Her mother’s best friend? Her mother didn’t have a best friend. She’d had many friends, but…

And then she remembered the pictures of her mother and a woman named…Marie? Marissa? Marina?

Damn, she couldn’t remember, but she did recall her mother showing her the pictures of them on a playground, getting an award in middle school, graduating college, and telling Bernie they’d been lifelong friends, until the woman died when Bernie was just a baby.

Fear slithered up her spine and along her tethered arms. How did her mother’s dead best friend play a part in this?

Think. She needed to think, not ask so many questions. She knew there was a spell of some kind she could use to get out of this—a disengagement spell, maybe?

How was she going to get out of these chains without lopping her head off otherwise?

Was keeping your head on your shoulders considered magic for personal gain?

Eddie chucked her under the chin, the feel of his lean fingers against her flesh making her cringe. “I guess this is the part where you’ll want an explanation?”

“I think that’s a very fair statement, Eddie. First you cheat on me with Doris, then you steal a book from a bank after framing me for attempted robbery. Then I did ten months’ time, wearing Kotex pads for shoes while I peeled every potato shipped out of Idaho. Now I’m presuming you want to kill me. So, if you’re going to send me to my death, at least play nice.”

Driving his hands into the pockets of his pressed trousers, his blue eyes glittered. “I really thought by now you and all your new friends would have figured it out. Here’s the thing. That book, the one I stole from the vault—it’s a book of spells once owned by a witch with very powerful blood magic.”

Ohhh. Blood magic. She remembered a paragraph on that from her studies. Bad. Blood magic was bad if not used appropriately. “And who was that witch?”

She figured she already knew the answer, but stalling him while she tried to remember a spell or anything that would help save her was key to her survival.

“Your mother’s best friend, Marie.”

Jackpot. “What does my mother’s best friend have to do with me?”

“She gave it to you, Bernie.”

“Gave me what?” Was he completely bonkers?

As her mind raced, something suddenly clicked with a jolt—but Eddie got to the punch before she was able.

“As you know, when you were an infant, you were sick. Your mother and Marie were very close. So close, except for one small thing. Your mother had no idea Marie was a witch. They’d been friends all their lives, and Marie never told her. But when you became gravely ill, your mother and father weren’t the only ones suffering. Marie suffered, too. She loved you as much as your parents.”