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

Her mind continued to race with questions despite her precarious position. “That day at the bank…”

Eddie nodded, his smile widening. “Was all a fluke. I didn’t think so at the time, but I got lucky when you caught me with Doris and demanded half the rent on the very day I planned to steal the book. So, I figured why not speed up the process? The original plan was to get the book and you, all in one fell swoop. But I had no idea you could shift, too, Bernie! You shifted into me! It was incredible! But then the police arrived and I had no choice but to shove you into the vault and run, leaving you holding the bag. Thus delaying my diabolical plan until your parole.”

Which begged the final question: “Exactly what the hell is in this book, Eddie?”

His sigh was wistful and full of wonder. “The answer to everything, Bernie. Everything. If you own the book, you can do anything, and then you’re not such a weak warlock after all.”

So this was a play not just for power, but respect.

Her frustration was reaching a new level, one that kept pushing her toward the edge of an invisible cliff. “Stop damn well talking in circles and explain what this book has to do with me! Why do you need me and the book?”

Eddie steepled his hands under his chin. “Let’s not rush things, huh? I’m the kind of bad guy who likes to relish his coup. I’ve waited a very long time for this day. All through your adolescence and well into your blundering adulthood.”

She shivered at the very thought of him watching her. Railed against the idea that he’d let her suffer, let her isolate and hide herself from the world when he had this kind of knowledge.

Bernie clenched her fists, digging her heels into the dirt as the chains protested with a rattle. “And I’m the kind of hostage who likes a good payoff. I’m not making the connection between the book and me. I’m the alleged keeper of the book, but I don’t have the book. You have the book. How do I relate to this book of everything, Eddie? What made you wait all this time to faux-date me? I’ve been legal for years.”

He held up a finger, his eyes twinkling. “This next bit of information is a very important piece of the puzzle. As a blood witch, you don’t come into the kind of power that I want until your third decade of life. Which, as you’ve seen, is pretty impressive power.”

Well, if you counted setting barns on fire, trashing trucks, and Violet’s loss of hair as impressive, then sure, she got it.

His words were so soft, so hushed; so incredibly calm, she shivered. This man wanted whatever she had, and he was about as cold-blooded as one could get in his efforts.

“Get to the point with the whole mess about books and murder and blood witches! What do I have that you want?”

“Marie’s blood, running through your veins, of course. The most powerful blood in the history of witches.”

“And that means?”

His next words chilled her with their measured calm. “That means, as it stands, you’re now the most powerful blood witch. Marie’s successor. And now I need your blood, Bernie—to become a blood witch, to be able to use the book of spells. Well, to be specific, I need your heart. I have to cut it from your chest and cease its beating as I recite the magic spell.”

Ahhh. Light bulb moment.





Chapter 15



Ridge launched his phone at the ground in frustration just after they all landed in his pasture, a mere few feet from the storm cellar.

Winnie’s eyes flew to his, lined with worry. “No Baba Yaga?”

Ridge clenched his fist, fighting not to drive it into the nearest inanimate object available. “When can anyone ever reach that woman? She needs a damned assistant!”

Flora patted his back with reassurance. “We got this, Ridge. We have a plan. Follow us.” She stalked off toward the pecan tree located not twenty feet from the storm cellar.

Ridge ran after her and the pack of seniors. “No, Flora! I can’t let you do this. I won’t risk y’all ending up hurt. Whoever this Eddie guy is, he’s got a plan, and I’d bet this damn farm he’s got all avenues covered. We don’t know what’s behind the cellar doors.”

Winnie gripped Ridge’s arm, stopping him under the tree. “Listen to me, Ridge, if he has that book, and we don’t get both it and Bernie the hell out of there, he’s going to kill her. I’m no weakling when it comes to magic, you know that. With all of us combined, we’re a damn powerhouse.”

Ridge shook his head, for the first time since his father’s death, damning him for his strict rules. It was going to end up costing him Bernie.

Not gonna happen.

“No, you don’t understand. Remember, my father has this whole place under a spell. You can’t use anything more powerful than a culinary spell or at best a vanishing hex.”