Wolf Town Read online

  Wolf Town

  by Bridget Essex

  “Wolf Town

  © Bridget Essex 2014

  Rose and Star Press

  Smashwords Edition

  First Edition

  All rights reserved

  Smashwords License Statement

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Synopsis:

  A love story about a werewolf, a witch and an odd little New England town…

  Amy Linden has a boring job and lives a boring life…or so it seems. But secretly, Amy is a witch who was raised by a family of witchy women who taught her how to cast spells, chat with ghosts and how to brew a truly enchanting cup of coffee. Nursing a broken heart after her girlfriend just left her, Amy’s feeling a little stifled by her small-town life. When her aunt sends her a letter asking Amy to come run her café in Wolf Town, Maine, while she vacations, Amy is prepared for some strong coffee, a little witchcraft and a lot of breakfast specials. And a fresh start.

  But nothing could have prepared her for Wolf Town itself. Populated by werewolves, fairy hordes and lake monsters, the strange, secluded town isn't exactly what Amy was expecting.

  Then she meets Morgan—the daughter of the werewolf patriarch of Wolf Town, not to mention the most gorgeous lady Amy has ever seen. When their eyes meet, Amy is utterly spellbound, and she knows that Morgan is the woman meant for her. But even destined love can sometimes be impossible, and Wolf Town has its dark past. Are Morgan and Amy meant to be together, or will Wolf Town’s secrets destroy them…and the town itself?

  WOLF TOWN is a light-hearted, fantastical romance that will take you on a journey you’ll never forget. It is approximately 57,000 words (several days worth of reading or so).

  Dedication:

  To Natalie–I wrote this book the month we were married. You are just like magic, and every day spent with you is enchanting. Thank you for sharing this journey with me. I love you.

  And this book is especially dedicated to Terri, whose incredible support, kindness and good humor always inspire me to tell more stories. This wolf’s for you, my friend!

  Contents:

  Chapter 1: The Vision

  Chapter 2: The Ghost

  Chapter 3: The Wolf

  Chapter 4: The Strange

  Chapter 5: The Pond

  Chapter 6: The Fairy

  Chapter 7: The Family

  Chapter 8: The Mermaid

  Chapter 9: The Date

  Chapter 10: The Ritual

  Chapter 11: The Alien

  Chapter 12: The Invitation

  Chapter 13: The Lake Monster

  Chapter 14: The Dance

  Chapter 15: The Three Words

  Chapter 16: The Fair

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Chapter 1: The Vision

  My mother named me Amethyst Stardancer Linden, because she wanted me to grow up to be a witch like her. She got her wish, and I got a weird name.

  One of the upsides of being a witch? Lots of holidays. Right now it was Mabon, which, I suppose, if you're a non-witch person, you would call the end of September. Mabon is one of the high holy Sabbats in witchcraft: the coven gathers together and does rituals of gratitude and eats things like oat cakes and Love Potion Stew (my mother's recipe), and Sandy inevitably gets into the rum, and Emily talks about her ex-husband a lot, and Tammie ends up on the living room floor, trying to hear the spirits speak to her.

  In other words, it was just a totally normal day in my mom’s house. Or, at least, it would have been a totally normal if we weren’t having The Argument—for the twelve millionth time this week.

  “You can't move,” said Mom, brandishing about her wine glass filled with grape juice. She never drinks on Sabbats, because she says the alcohol makes her feel less focused on the magick at hand. Sandy vehemently disagrees with that philosophy—and always drinks double.

  “Mom,” I said, dragging out the syllable with a sigh, “we have been over this literally—”

  “Moving? Our Amethyst moving?” That's Nancy. Mom's best friend, coven leader, head librarian and founder of the East Lionsville Feminist Committee. She talks about rituals in empowerment terms and invokes Susan B. Anthony's ghost when asked to name her personal Goddess. “Sweetheart, it's about time,” she said, leaning over the table and patting my shoulder. “I was wondering when you'd grow some ovaries. I mean, you’re thirty and living in your mother’s house…” She tut-tutted and gave me a judgmental smile.

  I shook my head and rolled my eyes, though I cringed inside. I was already painfully aware that living with my mother at the age of thirty kind of made me look like a loser to the rest of society. “Thanks, Nan,” I groaned.

  “No, I'm serious! Katherine,” Nan said, turning to my mom and punctuating her words with a finger stabbing at the sky. “You’re stunting her growth by letting her live with you. She has to set sail into the great wide world. She has to—”

  “—stay until she decides what she wants to do with her life,” said Mom firmly, shaking her head. “She has no clue! It’s perfectly lovely having a grocery store job, and that gives her a chance to figure out her life, make the right choices!”

  “Look at me, standing right next to you, where I can hear every word you’re saying.” I smiled tiredly and cocked my head to the side.

  “Sweetheart. Another six months. Decide your life path, and then seize it.” Mom put her arm around my shoulder and steered me toward the living room. She's not really that dismissive; mostly, she listens. But the last time I brought up the fact that life in East Lionsville was sort of stifling me, she'd finally begun to realize that I was serious about leaving. Not just her house, but leaving East Lionsville for good.

  Still, she was right. The matriarch of East Lionsville was always right. I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life, had stayed in college until they'd practically kicked me out. I was tired of academics, and I had been at the grocery store job my mom just mentioned for about six months now. Six months, and I still had no clue what I wanted to be when I “grew up,” and—news flash—I’d grown up a long while ago. I’d almost been diagnosed with a lifetime miasma.

  For heaven's sake, how difficult was it to find an open-minded girlfriend in East Lionsville who wouldn’t hightail it away when she found out that her lover was a witch?

  Answer: really, really difficult. And one of the major reasons I had to leave.

  East Lionsville had a grand total of three resident lesbians: Mandy Patter, who I'd dated in my first year of high school, and who had later decided she only liked the boyish girls (and who may or may not have broken my heart); Katie Donaldson, who I'd dated my entire senior year of high school, and who had had a terrible obsession with college football; and Carrie Bernard, who had just recently dumped me for Mandy Patter (who had promptly decided that ladylike ladies may be her taste, after all). So I’d pretty much run out of romantic options.

  I just needed to leave.

  I'd spent my entire life in this tiny town: I knew every crack in the sidewalk, every man, woman and child, and I was desperate for something…well, something I couldn't even name.

  I didn't have a plan. I just knew it was time for me to go.

  Mom directed me into the living room, where the round coffee table had been dragged into the center, draped with a bright purple cloth, thusly transformi
ng it into Ye Olde Sacred Space—otherwise known as an altar. Mom angled me to sit on the couch, and then she bustled about, removing the family pentacle from our ancestor shrine, placing and lighting a dangerous number of candles about as she chattered with the various coven members, who began to join us.

  As I sat on the couch, and as I listened to the women murmur and chuckle, I felt the energy shift, and I knew how much I would miss this. I'd been raised as a witch, had partaken in every Sabbat from the time that I could stand on my own tiny feet. I remembered my first Lammas, my first Litha, could feel the pull of the wheel of the year down to Samhain—Halloween. I would miss my mother’s sure voice invoking the Goddess, would miss the warm, worn hands that clasped mine as we formed the circle, would miss the cloying scent of sandalwood and patchouli that my mother insisted was the most sacred of incenses (I always preferred dragon's blood, myself). As I stood, as the ladies began to form the circle, Nancy clasping my right hand, Mom my left, I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and felt my heart beat slower, felt time shift and slow.

  And I knew that this was going to be my last Sabbat at home.

  It was this deep certainty that climbed up my spine, settling at last behind my ribs, coiled, expectant and waiting. As I stood more firmly, feet solid against the floor, standing straighter, grasping tighter to the hands connecting me to the circle, something odd happened. I'd seen visions before, had dreams that came true. It wasn't odd for me to have a glimpse of something important in ritual. I mean, my entire family had the Gift—with a capital “G.” But I'd never been gripped by it so fiercely, or so suddenly.

  I opened my eyes, and I saw myself standing on a street corner I didn't recognize. I looked happy, hands jammed into the pockets of my favorite red coat. Actually, I didn't just look happy; I was grinning like a fool, had, in fact, a ridiculously sappy expression illuminating my face. I crossed the street (may I point out that I didn't even look both ways?) and fumbled with my keys at the lock of the bright purple door of an old store. The sign over the shop read “Witch Way Cafe.”

  I turned, in the vision, and the grin that broke over my face couldn't even accurately be described as cheesy. It was a whole cheese factory. And then there was a rush, and my heart began to pound: a woman came into the vision and put her arms around my waist with a possessiveness I'd never experienced before. She had bright red hair that framed her face in cascading waves, and green eyes that flashed expectantly. She wore a crooked grin, and when she leaned in and kissed me, my toes actually curled in my boots. It was so wonderful. So perfect. So utterly…magical.

  “Amy?” The vision evaporated in front of me, and my mother was shaking my arm, calling my name. There was a slight murmur around me, and I realized that I was sitting on the edge of the couch, back poker straight, mouth open.

  “Hi,” I said quietly to Mom, blinking once, twice. I felt spacey, as if I’d just downed way too much coffee—which I was prone to do.

  “Honey, did you see anything?” That was Nancy again, ever ecstatic to see her favorite “niece” exercise her gift.

  I blinked for a long moment before nodding, my brows furrowed. “Um, yeah,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair and leaning back against the couch. “Huh. Um…”

  “Don’t talk yet!” bellowed Nancy, holding up her arms. “Sit with the feeling, sweetheart.”

  “Oh, Nan, she’s sat with it long enough,” muttered Mom with a roll of her eyes. “What was it, sweetheart?”

  I didn’t quite know how to describe it. The vision… Was it really a vision? Something strange had just happened, I realized. Something strange and special.

  I brushed my fingers over my lips.

  I had never been kissed like that, not in real life. And, in that moment, I wanted it more than anything else.

  There had been two words whispered into my ear, right before my mom called me back. Was it the Goddess, or was it a ghost, or was it my future self, whispering a promise? I went over all of the witchy possibilities, and then the New Age ones, and finally considered the mundane explanations. I decided that the voice was probably my higher self, with a pinch of the Goddess, which is a believable magical equation. Not that it even mattered where I'd heard it from. It pulled me now, a directive from fate, a compass spinning and ending at a point, straight and true.

  The words had spelled a village, up the coast, one I'd only heard of in passing.

  Wolf Town.

  “Um,” I cleared my throat. “I saw…a woman…” I began, biting my lip.

  “Woman?” all the women gathered together muttered amongst themselves.

  “I made out with her,” I told them helpfully.

  “A sign!” Nan pronounced as my mother looked at me with narrowed eyes, the gears in her head turning.

  “Was that it, sweetheart?” Mom asked me again.

  “Well, no, someone said ‘Wolf Town,’” I told them, clearing my throat.

  My mother blinked at the same moment that Nan leaned down and said, “You have to leave right away. Next week!”

  “Now, wait a minute,” my mother began, but I was staring at Nan, who’d just drawn a letter out my mother’s pocket, sneaking her hand into the billowing recesses of my mother’s purple ritual robe.

  “See, Katherine, I told you,” said Nan breezily, waving the envelope under my mother’s nose. “Things have a habit of taking care of themselves, don’t they?”

  “What are you talking about?” I pressed, leaning forward slightly as Nan and my mother locked gazes, their eyes flashing in a secret power struggle.

  As much as I loved them, sometimes they still treated me like a kid. Even though I was past thirty.

  “Well,” said my mother then, drawing out the single syllable until it took about a full minute to say. “Your aunt lives in Wolf Town.”

  “Which aunt?” I managed, despite my surprise, gazing around the room and spotting three of my mother’s sisters right here. She had a lot of sisters, though.

  “Aunt Bette,” said my mother briskly.

  Aunt Bette? How come I’d never heard of Aunt Bette? In our closeknit family, I knew every third cousin twice removed. How could the existence of an aunt have escaped me? But I didn’t have time to question my mother further. She was standing, smoothing the wrinkles out of the front of her ritual robe as her eyes narrowed again, and she told me noncommitally, “She runs a café in Wolf Town, and she seems to be in need of, uh—a vacation.”

  A scene from my vision flashed across my eyes. “Is it the Witch Way Café?” I asked weakly.

  Everyone in the circle stared at me.

  “Yes,” said my mother, with brows raised. Lips pursed, she shared another very meaningful glance with Nancy.

  “Hey, I’m right here, remember?” I told them quietly, waving my hand.

  “Your aunt needs a vacation, dear,” said Nancy kindly then, sitting down next to me and grapsing both of my hands, as if she was about to do a tarot reading for me. “She’s owned the Witch Way Café for a…very long time. And she works very hard. She never gets to take a break. And she wrote your mother asking if one of us could come up and watch the café while she went away for a little while. It’s a small café. It doesn’t get many visitors, and Wolf Town is pretty small, too. Does that sound like something you’d like to do? Tend the café for maybe…” She glanced up at my mother, cocked her head to the side. “Maybe a month?”

  I bit my lip. I didn’t even think about it. I needed a change of pace yesterday. Though Wolf Town didn’t exactly sound like a bustling metropolis, maybe it could provide the change of pace I needed. “Sure,” I told them all.

  “Okay, then,” said my mother, running a hand through her hair. “That settles it. It’s meant to be.”

  The women around the circle nodded sagely to each other as I watched them, feeling utterly mystified.

  When the ritual was over and the coven members had stuffed themselves at our Mabon feast (Mabon is our Thanksgiving, so it was a big spread, complete with a
turkey, stuffing and about a million squashes cooked in different ways), our house emptied out, and I watched as my mother made her way up to the hallway closet.

  Everyone had been acting pretty weird since my vision, so I followed Mom upstairs, a hundred questions hovering on the tip of my tongue. When she reached the hall closet, she pulled her old suitcases out of it, dragged them into my bedroom, and began loading them up with my books.

  “Mom?” I said, brows narrowed.

  “Honey, when a vision comes from the Goddess, we listen,” she said, tossing The Hobbit into the case.

  I was about to bring up the fact that she had been staunchly opposed to my moving for forever, but this was what I had wanted for a long time now, and I didn’t want her to go back to arguing that I should stay.

  Still, kind of weird that my mother was so gung-ho about my impending exodus all of the sudden. “Meant to be,” she’d said. Could I chalk that up to the Goddess’ mysterious ways, or was Mom’s flinching and haunted look that lasted about five minutes after I brought up Wolf Town an indication that there was more to this change of heart than met the eye?

  I filed that one away for later ponderings.

  The days passed and the weekend flew by. My mother spent a little time in hushed conversation on the phone, assumedly to my new aunt—Aunt Bette—who I’d never known existed. I felt that, somehow, I should be questioning that omisson, but there’s a lot of mystery in witchcraft, and honestly? I was too excited about the prospect of experiencing something new and fresh to really wonder what my mother was up to.

  Monday morning dawned gray and foggy, the perfect setting for the beginning of a quest. Mom helped me put the boxes in the Subaru, and—when there were no more boxes to load—leaned against the passenger door, folded her arms, and sighed a lot.

  “Well,” I said, playing with the car keys. What does one say in situations like this? “I guess this is...it.”