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Praise for the Missing Pieces Mysteries
A FINDER’S FEE
“The Lavene team has done it again: they’ve produced a first-class cozy with a strong element of the paranormal and made every single word believable. . . . You can never go wrong with a Joyce and Jim Lavene book.”
—MyShelf.com
“A great read . . . I loved how this lighthearted whodunit flowed from chapter to chapter with a fresh take on the well-written storyline . . . I eagerly await the next book in this delightfully charming series.”
—Dru’s Book Musings
A SPIRITED GIFT
“An engaging mystery . . . Fans know this writing duet can always be banked on for a strong thriller.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
“Readers will find themselves drawn into the investigation of the death. Throw in a little ghostly activity, the promise of a pirates’ treasure and the reader will be hooked.”
—Fresh Fiction
A TOUCH OF GOLD
“The Lavenes once again take readers into a setting with a remarkable past, filled with legends and history. . . . The characters are vivid and fascinating.”
—Lesa’s Book Critiques
A TIMELY VISION
“A delightful yarn. Few amateur sleuths are as charming as this psychic mayor sleuth in a small coastal town where murder stalks the dunes and ghosts roam the Outer Banks. Kept me turning pages until it was done.”
—Patricia Sprinkle, author of Deadly Secrets on the St. Johns
“I could almost smell and feel the salty sea air of Duck as I was reading. The authors definitely did a bang-up job with the setting, and I look forward to more of Dae’s adventures and the hint of romance with Kevin.”
—A Cup of Tea and a Cozy for Me
“This is a mystery with strong characters, a vivid sense of place, and touches of humor and the paranormal. A Timely Vision is one of the best traditional mysteries I’ve read this year.”
—Lesa’s Book Critiques
Praise for the Renaissance Faire Mysteries
TREACHEROUS TOYS
“An engaging whodunit made fresh by changing the season. . . . This exciting amateur sleuth is filled with quirky characters as team Lavene provide another engaging murder investigation.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
HARROWING HATS
“The reader will have a grand time. This is an entertaining read with a well-crafted plot. Readers of the series will not be disappointed. New readers will want to glom the backlist so they don’t miss a single minute.”
—Fresh Fiction
DEADLY DAGGERS
“The Lavene duet can always be counted on for an enjoyable whodunit . . . Filled with twists and red herrings, Deadly Daggers is a delightful mystery.”
—Midwest Book Review
“Never a dull moment! Filled with interesting characters, a fast-paced story, and plenty of humor, this series never lets its readers down.”
—Fresh Fiction
GHASTLY GLASS
“A unique look at a Renaissance Faire. This is a colorful, exciting amateur-sleuth mystery filled with quirky characters, who endear themselves to the reader as Joyce and Jim Lavene write a delightful whodunit.”
—Midwest Book Review
WICKED WEAVES
“This jolly series debut . . . Serves up medieval murder and mayhem.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A creative, fascinating whodunit, transporting readers to a world of make-believe that entertains and educates.”
—Fresh Fiction
“[A] terrific mystery series . . . A feast for the reader . . . Character development in this new series is energetic and eloquent; Jessie is charming and intelligent, with . . . saucy strength.”
—MyShelf.com
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Joyce and Jim Lavene
Peggy Lee Garden Mysteries
PRETTY POISON
FRUIT OF THE POISONED TREE
POISONED PETALS
PERFECT POISON
A CORPSE FOR YEW
Renaissance Faire Mysteries
WICKED WEAVES
GHASTLY GLASS
DEADLY DAGGERS
HARROWING HATS
TREACHEROUS TOYS
Missing Pieces Mysteries
A TIMELY VISION
A TOUCH OF GOLD
A SPIRITED GIFT
A HAUNTING DREAM
A FINDER’S FEE
Retired Witches Mysteries
SPELL BOOKED
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
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SPELL BOOKED
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the authors
Copyright © 2014 by Joyce and Jim Lavene.
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eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-62526-2
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / December 2014
Cover art by Mary Ann Lasher.
Cover design by Lesley Worrell.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
CONTENTS
Praise for titles by Joyce and Jim Lavene
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Joyce and Jim Lavene
Title Page
Copyright
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
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
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CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 1
Candle flame burning bright,
With your flame on this night,
Trap the evil, seal it well, in this stone, make it remain.
Never to be free again.
“Can you see her?” Olivia fussed with her lipstick. “There’s no use in having spelled binoculars if you can’t see anything.”
“I can see just fine,” Elsie snapped back, refusing to allow her friend to take the binoculars from her. “She’s not out there yet. If she were, I’d tell you. Why don’t you get me another cup of tea?”
Olivia gave me the look, a frown between her eyes, her nose wrinkled like she’d smelled something awful.
Her smooth blond hair looked perfect, as always. Her gray eyes were impatient—as always. “Do something, Molly. Do we want to check out this new girl, or what?”
I smiled at her, amused as anyone would be with the comfort of long years of friendship. “I’m sure Elsie can see her as well as you could. She’s facing in the right direction.”
“Thank you, Molly.” Elsie inclined her head, and her large pink hat slid down into her face. “Oh dear. There must be something wrong with the spell. Everything has gone pink.”
I laughed, and Olivia grabbed the binoculars from Elsie.
“Let me see those.” She put them up to her eyes and adjusted the lenses. “Oh yes. There she is now. Pretty Dorothy Lane, librarian. She dropped her bag again. That girl needs some fashion sense. Why is she carrying a purple bag with those blue tennis shoes?”
“That’s not why we’re watching her,” I reminded Olivia. “Do you see anything around her?”
“Not yet. She’s still picking up the books, and her cell phone.”
She put down the binoculars that had been spelled to see through the buildings that were between our shop and the downtown branch of the New Hanover Public Library. “Why don’t we just go talk to her?”
“Oh no. No. No. No.” Elsie clicked her tongue as she said it and then righted her hat. “You know we can’t do that. We can summon her a little and keep feeding magic her way. When she gets the glow about her, we’ll know she’s ready.”
Olivia gave back the binoculars with an impatient sigh. “Ladies, we are never going to get to Boca this way. We’ll be hundreds of years old before Dorothy Lane even realizes we’re looking for her. Is this the best we can do?”
Elsie rolled her expressive green eyes before putting the binoculars back up to her face.
It was a discussion we’d had many times before. The three of us needed Dorothy Lane, who was an orphan and a librarian recently graduated from East Carolina.
She was also an earth witch, with no knowledge of her abilities. She was powerful for a witch with no training, but she had no idea.
Elsie, Olivia, and I had grown up in the practice of magic, with our mothers and grandmothers—along with a few aunts and uncles—showing us the way.
Dorothy had no one. It made a big difference.
Normally a small coven like ours wouldn’t have been interested in an unschooled witch, but we were desperate.
There comes a time in every witch’s life when she realizes that it’s time to retire. For me, it was when I meant to zap a ding out of my new car before my husband saw it and asked what happened. Instead, I changed the color of the blue car to bright purple. Even worse, I couldn’t change it back. How humiliating!
Like everything else, even magic fades with time. Those little things you could once do with a snap of your fingers are now big things that can’t be done at all. I have been reduced to putting dishes in the dishwasher. Manually.
It’s shocking. Shameful!
But it happens to the best of us.
“You know it’s all we can do,” I reminded her. “If we approach her in any way, it could be very bad for us. She needs to come to us on her own. Those are the rules.”
Olivia got up and paced around the counter in our shop, Smuggler’s Arcane. She filled the kettle and then whispered a few words beside it. It only took an instant before it started whistling in her hand without touching the hot plate.
“See there? Things aren’t as bad as we make them out to be.”
Our three signature cups—my goldfish, Elsie’s flamingo and Olivia’s star—were already on the table where we sat. Olivia put some tea into each cup and poured in the hot water.
Elsie picked up her cup to have a sip. She put down the binoculars. “Whatever did you do to this tea?”
Olivia picked up the binoculars again to have another look at Dorothy. “What do you mean?”
“Why is the tea coming out of the cup?”
We all stared at Elsie’s cup. It looked as though the tea leaves had grown tendrils and were reaching out over the edge.
“Oh my heavens!” Olivia knocked the cup out of Elsie’s hand. “What is that?”
I caught the cup, Elsie’s favorite for the past fifty years, and kept it from smashing on the floor.
“It’s nothing.” Elsie chuckled. “I think Olivia got her growth spell mixed up with her warming spell.”
“You see what I mean?” Olivia’s voice was high-pitched in her moment of stress. “How can we live this way? Yesterday, I almost shaved the fur off Harper’s body.”
Harper was Olivia’s twenty-two-pound, gray and white cat. His spirit was that of a British sailor from the 1500s. He told some fascinating tales of his sea voyages.
Elsie glanced at me, her lips quivering. I did the unforgivable and laughed back.
Olivia took all three of our cups to the little sink behind the counter. We’d only recently begun using it to wash our cups and other utensils. Too many were being mangled by our cleaning spells.
“I didn’t even have a chance to take a look at my tea leaves!” Elsie complained.
“I can tell you what you would’ve seen in those tea leaves,” Olivia said. “It’s not going to get better by itself, you know. We need to find those three witches to take our places and hand off our spell book. That’s the only way our lives are going to get any better.”
“Have we thought how things will be better?” Elsie asked. “We won’t have any magic. What’s that going to be like?”
“Better to know a toaster isn’t going to work than to keep trying to use it!”
“I’m sorry, Olivia,” I apologized. “You’re right. But Elsie is right too. We have to be patient. We have to be like spiders, waiting for the right flies to come our way.”
Olivia dropped the kettle she’d begun to fill again. She shook all over. “Why did you have to say such a thing, Molly? You know how I feel about spiders. Being compared to one is only slightly better than that time you actually turned me into one.”
Elsie chuckled. Her chubby, pink hands—covered with rings she’d collected—flew up to her mouth. “Oh yes. I remember that. Funny. I never saw such an angry little spider.”
“You’d be angry too.” Olivia was defiant. “I can’t remember what you were trying to do, Molly. What was it?”
“I was only five, like you,” I reminded her. “We were trying to make butterflies from cocoons.”
“And you turned her into a spider instead.” Elsie rocked from side to side. “It was fun being your babysitter back then.”
Living in a small town, and being witches, the three of us had known each other while we were growing up. Our families had spent time together trying out new spells and looking for magic artifacts.
“Let’s have another look at Dorothy, shall we?” Olivia picked up the binoculars and faced Chestnut Street, even though the old brick wall of our building was only the first obstacle between her and us. “Oh, look! She’s walking now. You know, I think she glanced this way.”
“Really?” Elsie snatched the binoculars and took a peek. “Oh, Molly! She’s right. Dorothy’
s looking our way, and I think she has a slight glow about her.”
“All right. Let me see.” I hated to get between the two of them and the game they’d made out of watching Dorothy leave the library each day. I had a good time just watching them!
I peered through the lenses and saw the tall, gawky girl in her early twenties. She was as plain as bread pudding with her brown eyes and brown hair. But I could feel the power in her. It was as strong as mine had once been, even though she was a water-locked earth witch.
I had always been a little more powerful than Elsie or Olivia, even though Elsie was older and Olivia was an air witch. Air is powerful, but being surrounded by the Cape Fear River and the Atlantic Ocean in Wilmington, North Carolina, worked nicely for me as a water witch.
“You know, I think the spell is beginning to work.” I smiled as I handed the binoculars back to Olivia. “We may see some success in the next week or so.”
“She’s still raw material,” Olivia said. “We’re gonna have to train her before she’s any use at all.”
“Yes,” Elsie agreed. “But think how strong we’ll be with an earth witch to complement us. Maybe we won’t have to give up our magic entirely.”
“We’ve been through this before,” I reminded her.
“That’s true enough.” Olivia took one last pass with the binoculars. “The spell is fading. All I can see is really big bricks.”
We put the binoculars away, just in time too, as a customer came into Smuggler’s Arcane.
“I’m looking for a love spell.” The handsome young man’s eyes roamed across all the items that we’d collected and stored, both to sell and for our enjoyment.
The mummy wrappings and scarabs we’d found on a trip to Egypt, and the rune sticks we’d brought back from Peru. There were also more generic items of snakeskins and wasp stingers to be used for potions and poultices.
“What do you plan to do with the spell?” Olivia went around the counter, twitching her green skirt.
“Oh, here it comes,” Elsie complained. “If she sees a good-looking young man, she can’t help but flirt. Good thing she’s an air witch instead of fire. I’d hate to think what that would’ve done to her.”
“You have to admit she looks good for being in her fifties,” I said. “Doesn’t look a day over thirty. I don’t know if it’s still magic working or because she’s taken such good care of herself.”