Witch Slapped (Witchless In Seattle Mysteries Book 1)
Dakota Cassidy
Blurb
What’s a girl to do when she’s a broke, shunned ex-witch with a very tiny, very hungry bat familiar named Belfry to feed?
Hello. My name is Stevie Cartwright, and I’ve been witchless for thirty days.
If only there was a support group for down-on-their-luck ex-witches who’ve had their powers slapped right out of them (literally). Just as I was licking my wounds after returning to my hometown of Ebenezer Falls, WA, and navigating my suddenly non-magical existence with the help of my familiar, the only friend I have left in the world—things got sticky.
Enter an ex-spy and newly departed spirit named Winterbottom, who’s infiltrated my life with his sexy British accent and a couple of requests…
Thanks to Belfry’s successful attempt to use me as a human antenna to the afterlife, I can somehow hear Win. I should be ecstatic; helping departed souls used to be my witch specialty. It’s like I got the teensiest piece of my old life back. Except Win’s dropped me right at a dead woman’s feet.
Madam Zoltar, the town’s beloved fake medium, has been murdered, and Win wants me to catch the killer.
My old life won’t be worth much if it gets me whacked before my new life has barely begun—and that seems to be exactly what the killer has planned!
Acknowledgements
Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs, Tibbs Design
Dedication
If you’re joining me for the first time, welcome to Ebenezer Falls, Washington, a fictional suburb of Seattle, where my heroine, Stevie Cartwright, has gone to lick her witchless wounds! This cozy mystery and the ensuing series to come is a spinoff of my Paris, Texas, romance series. If you’ve not visited the whacky happenings in Paris, fear not, darling readers! This series is completely stand-alone. If you’ve read Paris, expect to see some familiar faces dropping in from time to time.
I also hope you’ll join me for Quit Your Witchin’, Book 2, and Dewitched, Book 3 in this series, releasing each month for the next two months.
No matter how you got here, thanks so much for joining Stevie and company on their journey to solve afterlife mysteries and her search to regain her witchy powers!
Also, enormous thanks to Mikell Mcdermott who, out of the blue, threw this awesome title up on my Facebook page—you rock! My BFF forever and ever, Renee George, for her endless advice, and my buddy Michelle Hoppe for her guidance.
And to Arwen Lynch Poe, for her amazing tarot card help and a reading for my character, which I’m still blown away by! I hope you’ll check her out on YouTube http://www.youtube.com/arwen61
Dakota XXOO
Chapter 1
“Left, Stevie! Left!” my familiar, Belfry, bellowed, flapping his teeny bat wings in a rhythmic whir against the lash of wind and rain. “No, your other left! If you don’t get this right sometime soon, we’re gonna end up resurrecting the entire population of hell!”
I repositioned him in the air, moving my hand to the left, my fingers and arms aching as the icy rains of Seattle in February battered my face and my last clean outfit. “Are you sure it was here that the voice led you? Like right in this spot? Why would a ghost choose a cliff on a hill in the middle of Ebenezer Falls as a place to strike up a conversation?”
“Stevie Cartwright, in your former witch life, did the ghosts you once spent more time with than the living always choose convenient locales to do their talking? As I recall, that loose screw Ferdinand Santos decided to make an appearance at the gynecologist. Remember? It was all stirrups and forceps and gabbing about you going to his wife to tell her where he hid the toenail clippers. That’s only one example. Shall I list more?”
Sometimes, in my former life as a witch, those who’d gone to the Great Beyond contacted me to help them settle up a score, or reveal information they took to the grave but felt guilty about taking. Some scores and guilty consciences were worthier than others.
“Fine. Let’s forget about convenience and settle for getting the job done because it’s forty degrees and dropping, you’re going to catch your death, and I can’t spend all day on a rainy cliff just because you’re sure someone is trying to contact me using you as my conduit. You aren’t like rabbit ears on a TV, buddy. And let’s not forget the fact that we’re unemployed, if you’ll recall. We need a job, Belfry. We need big, big job before my savings turns to ashes and joins the pile that was once known as my life.”
“Higher!” he demanded. Then he asked, “Speaking of ashes, on a scale of one to ten, how much do you hate Baba Yaga today? You know, now that we’re a month into this witchless gig?”
Losing my witch powers was a sore subject I tried in quiet desperation to keep on the inside.