Easy Magic (Boudreaux #5)

Easy Magic (Boudreaux #5)

Kristen Proby



Prologue


Mallory

No one should have to say goodbye to their grandmother at sixteen years old. Especially when it’s a forever goodbye.

And definitely not when that grandmother is the only parent this sixteen-year-old has ever known.

“Stop being so sad, child,” she says, her voice coming as a whisper. She’s lying in her big, soft bed, her long salt and pepper hair fanned out around her in a pretty halo. I used to love to brush her hair and braid it, over and over again. I get my thick hair from her.

Along with the ability to see dead people and read minds.

“How can you say that?” I ask and wipe a tear from my cheek. “I know what’s happening. I’m not a baby.”

“No,” she says with a weak smile and cups my cheek in her frail hand. Why is she so frail? My grandmamma is the strongest woman I know! “You’re not a baby, even though I sometimes wonder where the time has gone.”

“I can’t do this,” I whisper and lay my head on her chest. “You can’t leave me.”

“Oh, sugar.” She sighs and gently pushes her fingers through my hair, brushing it off of my face. “I won’t be far, you know. I’ll be here, to talk with you, to guide you.”

“I can’t do magic,” I insist.

“Opening yourself up to me is not magic, cher.”

“I don’t want any part of this,” I reply and burrow my face deeper in the covers, feeling her weak heartbeat. “It’s taking you from me.”

“And I’m sorry for that. I truly am. You’ve had more loss in your young life than anyone should have to bear.” She pauses to catch her breath. I hate that she’s so weak. “I’m not leaving you here alone. You have Lena and her grandmother, and they love you like family.”

“I know,” I reply and let a tear fall into the blankets. “But it’s not the same.”

“No.” She continues to gently push her fingers through my hair. “It’s not the same. Not enough. But they are here for you, always.”

Lena has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. Her grandmother, Sophia, and mine have been best friends since they were small girls as well. The four of us have been close, the only family the other has.

“How am I supposed to do this without you?” I whisper. “You’re the one who understands how different I am. No one loves me like you do.”

“And no one ever will, sugar. Not exactly like me. But someone will love you. Understand you. You just have to wait a while for him.”

I roll my eyes. My grandmother may be a powerful psychic and witch, but she’s also an incurable romantic.

God, I’m going to miss her.

“I just need you,” I insist.

“I’ll be here,” she says again, but I shake my head. “I know you’re afraid of what you can do.”

“I’m not afraid. I hate it.”

“You won’t always, love. Look at me.”

I raise my head to look into her deep brown eyes. She looks so tired.

“People are always afraid of what they don’t understand. You’ll learn. You have such a gift, Mallory. You can help people.”

“You helped people and it’s killing you.”

“And that was my choice,” she replies and smiles again. “And the outcome was worth it. That little girl was returned to her family.”

“And the killer—” I can’t even finish the sentence.

“Will get what’s coming to him,” she insists, but the fear is there at the edge of her voice. He found his way into her head, and did so much damage, she’s dying.

I will never do this.

“I love you, sweet girl. You have brought more to my life than I can ever say.” She cups my cheek again. “You are wonderful. And I know you don’t want it, but your gift is there all the same. Sophia will teach you, and if you’ll just open yourself up, you’ll see me. I’ll be here.”

I can’t do it!

“I love you, too,” I reply and watch as she finally closes her eyes and sighs deeply. I’m so selfish. She’s tired, and she’s hanging on because I can’t let go.

Oh, how I don’t want to let go.

I can’t take my eyes off of her. I don’t want to miss even one breath, one flutter of her eyelashes. Her eyes open one last time and focus on me. She smiles.

“I’ll see you soon.”





Chapter One


Mallory

“I’m sorry I’m late!” I rush into Miss Sophia’s house, toss my handbag on the new couch that Lena and I talked her into buying, and hurry to the kitchen. I was supposed to be here a half hour ago for dinner with them both. “I got caught up at the shop.”

“It’s just jambalaya,” Miss Sophia replies with a smile. I swear, she hasn’t changed a bit since I was a child. Her light blonde hair has no hint of grey in it. Her face is free of lines, except for the few around her eyes from smiling, and she has more energy than Lena and I put together. “It’ll keep on the stove until we’re ready for it.”

“Were you busy today?” Lena asks and takes a bite of cornbread. She’s leaning against the kitchen counter, still dressed in her work uniform of a tight black pencil skirt and red silk top tucked in, showing off her waistline. She’s fair-haired, just like her grandmamma, with bright blue eyes and the prettiest heart-shaped lips I’ve ever seen.

“There better be some of that left for me.” I tug the red napkin covering the bowl of cornbread aside and sigh in delight at the sight of the deliciousness. “Oh, thank God.”

“This is my first piece,” she says and takes another bite.

“I got delayed at the shop with Charly Boudreaux,” I say, finally answering Lena’s question. “She ordered some essential oils and stopped by after she closed her shop to pick them up.”

“The Boudreauxes are good people,” Miss Sophia says as she ladles our bowls of jambalaya.

“You know them?” I ask, surprised. “You’ve never said anything.”

I haven’t known Charly and her sister-in-law Kate long, but I like what I know. I met them at Charly’s shoe shop, Head Over Heels, a few months ago. Since then, we’ve had a couple lunches and one fun happy hour outing with Savannah, Charly’s sister. There are a lot of the Boudreauxes.

“Their family has been here as long as yours and mine,” Miss Sophia says and passes the steaming bowls to us. “Rich as Midas, but not showy with it.”

“Well, that we know,” Lena says. “Everyone in Louisiana knows that.”

“I went to school with Mrs. Boudreaux’s oldest sister. Sweet woman. Lost touch over the years, and she moved to Florida, I believe. All I’m saying is they seem like good, hard working people.”

“Well, that seems to be true,” I reply with a nod. “Charly puts in long hours at her shop.”