Flirting With Magick

FLIRTING WITH MAGICK

BY

LEIGH BENNETT

Booktrope Editions

Seattle WA 2014

Copyright 2014 Aurora-Leigh Bennett

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License
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Cover Design by Loretta Matson

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

Print ISBN 978-1-62015-503-5

EPUB ISBN 978-1-62015-519-6

DISCOUNTS OR CUSTOMIZED EDITIONS MAY BE AVAILABLE FOR EDUCATIONAL AND OTHER GROUPS BASED ON BULK PURCHASE
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2014915174

For Matt, Gryphen, Jasper, and Kynan

Thank you for my happy ending.

FIRST AND FOREMOST,
thank you to my husband and best friend,
Matt. Your support and belief in me has always been way more than I
could even give myself. I love you, honey. xxx

My sons: Gryphen, Jasper, and Kynan. I love you all so much, and
thank you for your understanding and patience when Mum’s been
lost in another world and has taken more time than usual to attend to
your requests.

My family: Mum and Dad, Trent and Niamh, Chris and Craig, Mark,
and Kerrie and Tom. Thank you for your encouragement and support.

Bindi Ritchie, Leanne Smith, Natty Keane, Aurora Reed, Linda
Fausnet, Norlin Mustapha, Jade Zivanovic, Nina D’Angelo, and Emil
y
Dawson, thank you for taking the time to read my baby and providing
me not just with praise but with feedback, opinions, critique, and criticism
which have helped immensely in making the finished product what it
is. I couldn’t have done it without you.

My book manager, Sarka-Jonae Miller; proofreader, Jacy Mackin;
cover designer, Loretta Matson; and everyone at Booktrope: Thank you
for the wonderful opportunities.

Steph O’Connell at Figment Friendly Editing. You are worth your
weight in gold, and your talent astounds me. Thank you for making my story so much better.

To my friends and acquaintances whose eyes didn’t glaze over
whenever I talked about my book. Thank you for your unexpected
enthusiasm.

And finally, readers: Thank you for taking the time to read my
book. It might not change your life, but I hope it has made your day
a little happier.

mag·ick  

n

1
. Archaic -
magic

2. An action or effort undertaken because of a personal need to affect change, especially as associated with Wicca or Wiccan beliefs.

IT WAS THE BEST FEELING!

The knot in my stomach untied, and a wave of serenity washed over
me, finally rinsing away the last of the anxiety that had been weighing
me down. The overdue accounts, the stupid printer that jammed on
every third page, and my idiot boss, Tom Lancer’s, irrational demands
were no longer my problem. There seemed to be a carpet of air bene
ath
me; I barely noticed the puddles splashing up and leaving muddy spots
on my trousers or the jagged pebbles that poked into my feet through
the well-worn soles of my favourite flats. Tightening my scarf against the
evening’s cold, I quickened my step and dared not look back. Someon
e
could run out and ask me another stupid question about filing. Could I
provide more training next week? Would I rethink my resignation? Yeah, right!

I'd been desperate to leave that hell-hole for a long time, and try
ing
to cram work into the gaping chasm left vacant by my ex, Josh, had
n't
improved the enjoyment factor. I'd picked up an interesting book in a
New Age shop, and after having been rejected for yet another ‘still pretty
boring but a hell-of-a-lot better than this one’ job, I decided to let the
universe in on my plans. With a waxing moon, several overly expensive
candles, a few herbs, and some creative visualisation, I asked for its help
. Two days later, I had an interview. The day after that, a new job. My
notice was submitted without a second thought, and then this delicious
feeling of freedom flooded over me. The spell had worked.

The lights were off at my friend Kate’s flat, which was two levels
down from mine.
She
had offered
an evening out instead of my
customary
night in after a tiring week, and I now found myself wishing I hadn't declined. This wasn’t a usual Friday night, and I would have liked a real person to share it with, as opposed to what had become my only option; a voice over the phone.

My whole flat wasn’t much bigger than most living rooms, but it
was cosy, comfortable, and just the right size for one person. It had one
bedroom
—
big
enough for my queen
size bed and little else
—
, a combined
laundry and bathroom, a little galley style kitchen more suited to a
submarine, and a bright and airy sitting room, all of which were decorated
courtesy of
eBay
, fl
e
a markets, and Grandma. I liked to think the combination
of vintage furniture and colourful cushions was eclectic and charming
,
rather than cheap and sad. The flat heated quickly on a cold Melbourne
night when there was nothing better than grabbing some takeaway,
popping open a bottle of wine, and watching whatever brain-dead movie
was on the TV. I opened up the steaming hot burritos I'd picked up fro
m
the local restaurant and poured myself an extra big glass of Riesling,
thinking I should have looked for a spell to win a holiday on a tropical
island to escape the cold. Now that
would
have been a great way to spend
a free week!

Dinner was finished, and the wine was having a lovely effect on my
already elevated mood when the phone rang.

“Abby, darling. How was your last day?” My mother’s singsongy
voice flowed softly down the line. I relayed the last week’s events to
her in detail. My car had broken down and had taken three days to be
fixed, which normally wouldn’t have been a problem except that those
three days happened to be torrentially rainy and windy. It was fine to
walk to work on nice days, but I drove on rainy days (or lazy, disorganised
,
or sleep-in days), so never really bothered with a waterproof coat, on
ly
a useless bunch of warm but not very water resistant ones. My um
brella was also about as useful in the wet as a sieve so I turned up to work,
that first day of three, soaking wet. I finished early that day to buy a coat
,
but the only one I could find was more than twice what I was willing to
spend. I really needed it, so I had handed over the ridiculous amount of money for the bloody thing that probably wouldn’t see the light of
day after that week and was left broke by the time I’d finally gotten m
y
car back.
Thank God it was payday today!
I poured myself another glass
.
Oops, not that much. Oh well; I suppose I have to drink it now
.