American Witch Read online

  From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Thea Harrison comes the first in a new spellbinding trilogy…

  Power can change a person…

  For months Molly Sullivan endures the inexplicable: electrical surges, car breakdowns, visions. She even wonders if she might be the cause… and wonders if she might be crazy. Then she discovers her husband has cheated on her. Again. Now Molly realizes she is a newly awakening witch and a woman pushed over the edge.

  Revenge can shape a person…

  Josiah Mason is a Powerful witch and the leader of a secret coven with a shared goal: to destroy an ancient enemy who has ruined many lives. Josiah lost years to this man, and his sole focus is revenge. He’s prepared for every contingency—except encountering a beautiful new witch who understands nothing of the immense Power building within her or the attraction she wields over him.

  Danger can bring them together…

  When divorcing her husband, Molly uncovers a dangerous secret he’s willing to kill to protect. She turns to Josiah for help, and they discover a connection between Molly’s husband and Josiah’s enemy.

  As they work together, a spark ignites between them that threatens to become an inferno. But Molly is done compromising herself for any man, and Josiah’s mission is his top priority. And the enemy is cunning, cruel, and drawing ever closer.

  As the danger escalates, so does the tension between them. Is a lasting relationship possible? Will either of them live long enough to try?

  American Witch

  Thea Harrison

  American Witch

  Copyright © 2019 by Teddy Harrison LLC

  ISBN 13: 978-1-947046-18-4

  EPUB Edition

  Cover design by K.D. Ritchie at Story Wrappers

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced, scanned or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Author’s Note

  Look for these titles from Thea Harrison

  Chapter One

  Molly stared at what she had found while she flushed hot, then cold, and the roaring in her ears was the sound of all the balls she’d been juggling for years that were now crashing at her feet.

  Her fingers shook as she pulled out the strange pair of underwear from the narrow space between her husband’s nightstand and their king-sized mattress. She dropped the panties onto the bed. They were outrageously feminine, a dark purple with lace trim.

  They were a size smaller than what she wore.

  Her gaze listed around the shadowed, quiet room, a foundering ship in search of a safe harbor. Years ago she had decorated the master bedroom to reflect serenity, but at the moment it felt anything but serene. A storm had rolled in, and the sky was so dark outside it looked like twilight.

  Rain lashed against the windows like a wild creature trying to break in. Water ran in rivulets down the glass pane, and thunder growled. Inside, the house felt too still, as if it held its breath, and the heavy, dense air was thick with an electrical charge.

  Her attention snapped back to the purple panties. They were a shocking intrusion, the purple violent against the pale cream duvet.

  What kind of woman trysted with a married man in his own bed, then forgot to put on her panties when she left? What kind of husband did that to his wife?

  Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. Something tightly leashed inside her tore, and her emotions raged uncontrollably.

  On the landing at the head of the stairs, the antique grandfather clock stopped ticking. The bedroom plunged into semidarkness with a sizzling electric pop that made her nearly leap out of her skin.

  From his office downstairs, Austin shouted irritably, “Goddammit, Molly—a circuit blew again. The party’s in two hours, and I’m still in the middle of crunching the numbers I need to go over with the other partners tonight. Would you fix it?”

  Go ahead, Molly. Fix it.

  Go into the basement and reset the circuit breaker.

  Then bake the puff-pastry hors d’oeuvres by 5:45 p.m. The chicken should marinate until 6:10 p.m., and then you need to put it immediately into a preheated oven. Check the wine cooler to make sure the white wine is chilled to fifty-two degrees, slice lemons and limes for cocktails, and don’t forget you need to ice the sponge cake with buttercream frosting and top it with the fresh fruit that you’ve washed and left to dry on paper towels.

  And you need to shower, put on your makeup, and dress well so you can do your part and charm your guests tonight.

  Would the owner of the purple panties be at the party?

  She couldn’t feel her fingers. Carefully, she folded the panties and stuffed them into the pocket of her old cardigan. Then she went downstairs, picked up her purse, located her car keys, and walked out of the charming six-bedroom, four-and-a-half-bath Cape Cod house.

  The gray sky spat needles of chilly rain as she climbed into her Escalade in the driveway. After starting the engine and cranking up the heat, she took the panties and laid them out on the passenger seat. Then she fastened her seat belt and pulled out.

  Her shoulders felt crushed, and her face was streaming. She couldn’t get a deep enough breath into her cramped lungs.

  She drove to the end of the street and then turned and drove back on the neighboring street, passing large well-tended lawns and equally large familiar houses. Zigzagging back and forth, going nowhere, her mind a blank.

  Her cell phone rang. She ignored it. It rang several more times until she put it on vibrate. Then it buzzed like an angry hornet. She didn’t want to ever talk to him again. She felt like she could drive for weeks and weeks. Just watch the road as it came scrolling toward her. Why couldn’t she do that? When she thought of how trapped she felt, a wave of anguish rolled through her.

  Every light on the dashboard of the Escalade lit up, and the engine sputtered. Suddenly calming, she listened as it gave one last cough before it died. Using the SUV’s momentum, she steered to a stop at the curb and put it in park opposite a large, landscaped retention pond at the edge of the neighborhood.

  She told the absent woman who owned the panties, “Today’s Thursday. The cleaning service came yesterday morning. I got home from visiting my mother last night, and I only just got around to straightening the bedroom today. So you were in my bed yesterday afternoon.”

  “True,” admitted the woman in her imagination. “There wasn’t any other time it could have been.”

  Molly could picture her. The woman would be leggy. Perhaps lightly tanned, with golden-blond
hair and freshly returned from a trip to the Caribbean. The purple panties would look good on her. She would be intelligent as well as pretty, educated, a knowing expression in her worldly eyes. She might hold her mouth in a slight ironic slant.

  She probably looked a great deal like Molly. Austin had a type.

  Molly said between her teeth, “You left those panties on purpose. Nobody forgets something like that. You left them for either Austin or me to find. If Austin found them, it would remind him of what you and he did. If I found them, I would learn about your affair. Either way would work for you.”

  In her mind, the woman smiled and crossed her long legs. “Indeed. What else have you got?”

  She clenched the steering wheel with both hands. “Austin wouldn’t bring an unknown hooker into the house. If he were going to have a hooker, he would go to a hotel. This is a relationship. You and he have been together before.”

  The woman gave her a conspiratorial smile. “You’re not quite as stupid as Austin thinks you are.”

  This time when Molly glanced at the panties, the passenger seat didn’t seem quite empty. An indistinct, transparent form of a woman appeared to be sitting there, although she wasn’t the tall, leggy blonde Molly had been envisioning. She got the impression of a small, curvy figure, dark hair, and a bright gaze.

  Her heart kicked hard. Blinking rapidly, she dug the heels of both hands into her dry, burning eyes. When she looked again, the strange hallucination had vanished. The seat was as empty as it had always been.

  What the hell is happening to me?

  Shaken, she wiped her face. When she had composed herself, she found her phone. Ignoring the multiple text and phone messages, she called roadside service.

  It took them almost an hour to arrive. As she waited, she slipped out of the car, and ignoring the light rain, she walked the path alongside the pond while keeping the Escalade in her line of sight.

  The wind was chilly, but she barely noticed. She felt like a walking bruise.

  Everything in her life had been about Austin’s career. Every decision they had made had been carefully plotted out.

  They had met in college, and after graduation they had moved to Atlanta where Austin’s father had a small law firm. Then his father’s firm had been bought out by a larger one. Austin had been made a partner in the new, larger firm while his father had retired.

  So they had settled here, making more money as the years rolled by, increasing in influence and reputation, developing important connections, and buying a showcase house with an open floor plan that was perfect for throwing frequent dinner parties for powerful people.

  Out of the corner of her eye, bright red flared. Turning, she watched as the lights of a tow truck appeared at the end of the street. While the mechanic parked, she walked back quickly and stuffed the panties into her cardigan pocket.

  She waited in the Escalade as he changed the battery. Afterward, she paid with her credit card, and he handed her the paperwork. “That car is less than two years old,” he told her. “The battery should have been fine. If I were you, I’d contact the dealership. This is probably still under warranty.”

  “Understood. Thank you.” She watched him climb into his truck.

  While he had worked on her SUV, the last of the afternoon light had faded. She was horribly, unforgivably late.

  When she arrived home, the house was ablaze with lights. Austin had fixed the tripped electrical circuit. High-end cars lined the side of the long driveway and the street.

  His important dinner party had started. The white wine hadn’t been taken from the cooler, so it would be too cold. The hors d’oeuvres hadn’t been baked, the cake hadn’t been iced, and there had been no one to cook the chicken.

  She certainly hadn’t showered, nor had she put on makeup. She caught a glimpse of her appearance in her side mirror. She looked like a half-drowned rat.

  Okay, she thought. What am I going to do now?

  I could go in the back way, slip upstairs and clean up, go back down and make my excuses. Austin will be furious, but he’ll hide it with warm smiles and a kiss on the cheek.

  Afterward, he’ll lecture me. He might yell a bit. I could make up some lie about going to help a friend in trouble, tell the truth about my car breaking down, and the whole thing would blow over.

  But no. I don’t think so.

  She strode for the front door, picking up speed as she went, while the frozen lump in her chest melted into something hot and volcanic. Anger felt like a wild animal living in her chest. It made her strides long and powerful.

  In the door.

  Past well-dressed, startled people. Molly let the rage take over while she hovered high in one corner of her mind, watching.

  The colors of the guest’s clothes seemed garish, too bright. Many of the women were beautiful, their painted mouths forming words as they stared at her, some catty and judging, others disturbed. Was the owner of the panties here? Possibly.

  She stalked past partners in Austin’s firm and their significant others. Select clients. Judge Mallory. Somewhere, the new DA, Josiah Mason, would be mingling. A real up-and-comer, people called him. A man to be careful around. A man to watch.

  Everyone had drinks. Several people called out questions and greetings, but she didn’t answer. She had a single objective.

  She found Austin talking to Russell Sherman, the managing partner of the firm, and a tall, imposing man she didn’t recognize. When she drew close, the three turned to her. Her sense of disconnection vanished, and suddenly she slammed back into her body again.

  Austin’s handsome face creased in a smile while his sharp gaze looked murderous. “There you are, honey. What happened? I was getting worried about y—”

  As he talked, she reached out and dropped the wadded-up panties in his martini glass. His words cut off, like flying birds shot out of the sky.

  “You broke my heart the first time you cheated on me,” she told him. “Broke it into a million pieces. I was only twenty-one and a junior in college. You were twenty-two and had just graduated, and we’d only been together for a year. But you were so sorry, and oh Lord, my mother was so damn insistent. So I stayed and gave you another chance.” She turned to Russell and the powerful-looking stranger who stood beside him. “He can be persuasive, can’t he?”

  Russell stared at her like she had turned into a rattlesnake, while the new, unknown man watched her with an impassive gaze. He had a hard, strong-boned face that was distinctive rather than classically handsome. In her mind’s eye, he seemed to shimmer with a dark essence, as if he was a polished onyx that caught the light while all the people around him faded into the background like flat paper dolls in a book that told someone else’s story.

  “Molly,” said Russell with an embarrassed laugh and a sideways glance around the quieting room. “This is neither the time nor the place.”

  Her voice sliced across his. “This is exactly the right time and place.”

  Russell turned away, moving his square, bulky body like a weapon. In a low voice, he said to Austin, “Get her under control.”

  Austin had whitened. His jaw clenched, and his eyes burned with a promise of retribution. Grabbing her arm with hard fingers that bit into the muscles of her biceps, he muttered, “We’re going into the kitchen. Now.”

  Fury erupted, filling her body with a flash fire. She actually saw sparks of light like lightning at the edges of her vision.

  Jerking her arm free, she hissed, “I believe the legal definition of assault is laying hands on another person without their permission. Or is that battery? I can never keep those two straight. Touch me again, and I’ll call the police.”

  Red spots of hectic color burned in his taut face. He bit out, “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

  Over his shoulder, she caught sight of the antique Japanese Satsuma vase he had given her as a wedding present twenty years ago. They had gone to Japan on their honeymoon and discovered the vase while shopping. It had cost so much m
oney she had walked away from it, but Austin had returned to the shop to purchase it for her.

  She had felt so happy then. So full of faith in their future, the shadow of his first infidelity buried well and truly in the past.

  She focused all her rage and hurt on that vase. The specks of lightning at the edges of her eyesight flared, and something—some indefinable, invisible thing—shot out of her body like a thunderbolt.

  Across the room, the vase slammed into the wall and shattered, and the stand toppled over.

  Hey, she thought. Wait. I… Did I do that? How the hell did I do that?

  She stared numbly at the destruction while the rest of the world faded into swirls of people exclaiming and muttering in the background. Some of the dinner-party guests were slipping out the front door while others lingered to stare.

  The imposing stranger regarded the fallen vase, then turned to look at her, a corner of his mouth tilting up. Against a deep suntan, his knowledgeable eyes looked yellow like a cat’s. Reaching to his forehead with long fingers, he tilted an invisible hat at her.

  Austin broke the throbbing tension with a loud laugh. “I guess we should have gotten someone to fix the wobble in that vase stand,” he said in a voice pitched to carry across the silent room. “Tell you what, everybody, it’s abundantly clear Molly and I are having a rough moment. Why don’t you all head to the bar in the other room? Russell will serve you up whatever you desire while my wife and I resolve this.”

  That snapped her focus back into place.

  “Because resolving this should only take five minutes or so?” Her acidic retort caused his head to rear back.

  “Where is your Xanax?” he muttered.

  “You think drugging me is the way to deal with this?” Raising her voice, she said clearly, “The second time you cheated on me, I cried for weeks. You didn’t know I found out. I was too… something. I don’t even know what the word is. There you were, going through your life with your dick hanging out of your pants, and I was too scared or intimidated or heartsick to confront you. I felt like a failure. I thought it had to be at least partly my fault. I had fallen out of love with you by then, but I still tried to make our life together work. I’m not a quitter, I said. I would stick it out. For better or worse, right?”