9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC

ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE
PURCHASED:
Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE
LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or
device.
You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior
written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book.
This
book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your
computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for
free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in
violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or
in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently
known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore,
you must delete it from your computer.

WARNING: The unauthorized
reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal
copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is
investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison
and a fine of $250,000."

If you find a Secret
Cravings Publishing e-book being sold or shared illegally, please let us know
at
[email protected]

A Secret Cravings Publishing Book

Erotic Romance

WITCH'S BREW

Copyright © 2012 by Tabitha
Shay

E-book ISBN:
978-1-61885-130-7

First E-book
Publication: January 2012

Cover design by
Dawné
Dominique

Edited by Colleen
McSpirit

Proof read by Ariana
Gaynor

All cover art and
logo copyright © 2011 by Secret Cravings Publishing

ALL RIGHTS
RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in
any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in
whole or in part, without express written permission.

All
characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual
persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER

Secret
Cravings Publishing

www.secretcravingspublishing.com

Dedication

To my mom, who never once laughed at my dreams, but only
ever wished me the best of luck. To my children, Tracy, Tammy, Michael, Casey
and Shayne, for all the hours you lost with me while I was writing. To my
husband, Earl, who has more patience than any man should be required to have
and for always being there for me and taking care of me when I couldn’t take
care of myself. I love you all very much. And last, to Kathy Pilkington, a
friend for more years than either of us wants to remember, a lady who loves
books as much as I do, and the first to fall in love with Topaz and Celine.

Acknowledgement

Special thanks to Dawne Dominque
for her lovely art work.

Thanks to my editor, Colleen
McSpirit, and proof reader, Ariana Gaynor.

Thanks to my online paranormal
critique group, Laura, Ruby, Nicki, Stacey,

Kayelle, Aleta, Anna, Amber,
Sherri, Rachel and Bonnie. I couldn’t have

done it without your help and
advice. Thanks to my local writing club,

the Green Country Ruff Riter’s,
Paula Gorgas, Rebecca Billy and Janet

Short for your support, advice
and help. Amber Harp, you’re a special

lady and thank you for always
being there and for the many unselfish

hours you listened to “Witch’s
Brew” in its early stages of creation and

always saying, “I love it!” Paula
LaFevers for all the hours you read it

aloud and kept us entertained
with your wild sense of humor. Thank you

Jo Jansen and the Out There gang
from Beerwah, Queensland, Australia.

Special thanks goes out to Regina
Richardson from New Mexico,

Anita Humphries from Texas and Debra
Casey from Louisiana, three of

my loyal fans. I love you,
ladies!

And last, thank you, Secret
Cravings Publishing for being willing to put

this book out there for a second
go around.

WITCH'S BREW

Book 1 of the Wislow Witch's

Of Salem

Tabitha Shay

Copyright © 2011

I will not
plead

If I deny, I
am condemned already

In courts
where ghosts appear as witnesses

And swear
men’s lives away. If I confess,

Then I
confess a lie, to buy a life,

Which is not
life, but only death in life.

~William
Wadsworth Longfellow

Prologue

Nine-year-old
Elizabeth Parris and eleven-year-old Abigail Williams began to exhibit strange
behavior, such as blasphemous screaming, convulsive seizures, trance-like
states and mysterious spells. Shortly after this, several other Salem girls
began to demonstrate similar behavior.

~Salem Witch Trials

January 20, 1692

The Time
of Bron Trogain

Salem
Village

1692

“Elsbeth Winslow, you are under arrest for the vile crime
of witchcraft!”

Elsbeth dropped the large wooden spoon in the bubbling pot
of stew hanging from the hob in the hearth. Gasping, she whirled to face her
husband as he entered their tiny cottage.

“Oh, John, not you,” she said, her voice breathless with defeat.

The warmth inside the room that had soothed earlier and
made the tiny room cheerful and welcoming, suddenly felt dank, cold and
hostile. The delicious aroma of the stew turned sour, fouling the air. Elsbeth
wrapped a protective arm around her mid-section and scrunched her nose. Disbelief
settled in her breasts. How could her husband, who’d always had common sense,
go along with the insanity eating Salem Village alive?

His six foot frame blocked the late evening sunlight from streaming
through the open doorway of their cottage. Thick, dark brows beetled over eyes
grown mad with heightened emotion. His once precious mouth, a hard slash across
his face, brooked no disobedience. He’d come for her and he expected her
compliance.

Ignoring the stew she’d put on to heat, Elsbeth
straightened to her full height of five foot two and glanced toward the single
window. Would the sun never set on this terrible day? Her heart sank. All hope seeped
from her body. What made her think tomorrow would be a better day? There’d be
more arrests, more questions, more sentences and more hangings. Terror reigned.
Families were being ripped apart, some sick and dying in the crowded jails
before they could be brought to trial.

With charges now brought against her, she knew there was
only one thing she could do–flee Salem Village. Take her daughters and leave as
quickly as possible.
But
first, she had to get past her husband, no easy feat.

John closed the door behind him and drew closer. Her heart
pounded. Elsbeth backed up a step, but the hearth stood behind her. She could
retreat no further.

“Do not be a part of this evil thing,” she pleaded. “I’m
taking our daughters and leaving Salem. Do not try to stop me.”

The firelight from the hearth flickered, revealing John’s
eyes clearly for the first time since he’d entered the dimly lit cottage. An
ebony hue, dark and evil, had replaced the warm brown of his once gentle eyes.
They were now flat, without the sparkle of life that had always twinkled in the
whiskey-colored depths.

Bewitched!
Her husband was bewitched.

Elsbeth barely stifled a gasp. “John.” Her voice escaped
on a whispery thread, filled with shock and hurt for him. “Oh great goddess of
the moon and earth,” she breathed. “Help me! Help us!”

Her throat turned dry as a leaf in fall. A wave of cold
sweat broke over her. Her chest tightened as if the evil magic poisoning John’s
soul squeezed the life from her heart. Nausea roiled and threatened to clog her
throat. Her breath locked inside her lungs. A veil of blackness slid over her
vision. Elsbeth shook her head to keep from swooning.

Someone had recently used Black Magick on her husband. The
evil enslaving his mind reeked of the foulness such magick carried. Her eyes
burned from the noxious, rotten egg scent enveloping him. Nostrils flaring, Elsbeth
recognized the foul stench of evil mixed with the unmistakable whiff of recent sex
and the spicy aroma of another witch’s scent rising from John’s close-fitting
doublet and baggy breeches.

Even though she’d suspected his infidelity, her heart had
refused to accept the truth…until now. The jagged splinters of pain piercing
her soul at this final betrayal could feel no worse than if she’d been stabbed
through the heart with a dagger. She prayed silently to the goddess to remove
her anguish. She could not bear his disloyalty.

John was lost to her now, as surely as if Death had lifted
his skeletal fingers and plucked her husband away to the Underworld. There was
no undoing another witch’s Black Magic. And even if she could, she’d never find
forgiveness in her heart for John’s unfaithfulness.

Elsbeth blinked. Her eyes stung with the acridity of
unshed tears. A sob as big as a
toad’s banyan
lodged in her throat.
‘Twas too bad full blooded witches were incapable of tears. She wanted nothing
more than to fall to the floor in a sobbing heap like the
illumrof
females.

Instead, her heart bled crimson droplets of sorrow. She
wept for what had once been and would be no more. Her mind screamed an urgent
warning.
Go.
Hasten. Run.
Fleeing with her daughters to the safety
of her realm was the only choice left to her now.

Cautiously, she stepped to the end of the table, but John
grabbed her arm, twisting her to face him, face his wrath.

“Do not consider leaving, Beth. There’s nowhere for you to
hide.” He tightened his fingers on her wrist. “You’ll come with me. Magistrates
Hathorne and Corwin are waiting to examine you this night.”