Return of the Fae

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A witch in training, a hunter on the prowl, and a world in jeopardy.

Learning the rules of being a witch takes years, but Parris McCall needs to master them in only weeks. Knowing how to wield her magic is the one thing she has to keep her grandmother safe and herself alive.

Ty Wallace is going mad with his desire for Parris, but he has to maintain an emotional distance from her. She’s a distraction in his quest to find Coven X before they grow too strong, taking The Council and everyone he knows down with it.

As Parris labors through the academy manuals, the couple takes a trip to find Ty’s mentor. He’s their only hope in helping Parris with her studies. To their dismay, the old man has disappeared. Their only clue comes from a witch banished for actions against The Council. When they return, not only do they find their own lives threatened, but casualties in the war between the covens have risen. And a new life hangs in the balance.
 

A Lyrical Press Paranormal Romance

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She had been born a witch. Time to learn to act like one. And quick. The Council had made it clear a first blood strike seemed imminent. A long overdue fight between two rival covens would not only put the witch community in jeopardy but also endanger the human world. The Council wanted humans to stay ignorant of their interweaving into the mix as long as possible. Forever would be preferred.

She took her second cookie and coffee back to the living room where she pulled the book close and resumed reading. If she had to be a witch, she would know everything about the life she could learn. And then some.

Two hours later, she finished Volume Two. Volume Three sat on the table near Derek. She scooted the sleeping Dragon over to a pillow on the couch, stood and stretched. She dropped the book on the table as her cell rang.

Derek shook his head.

Smiling, she answered the call. She might be able to ditch study hall, sooner rather than later. “April, what’s going on?”

Return of the Fae

Book 2 of the Council Series

Lynn Cahoon

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Dedication

To my husband for listening while I plotted out the story as we walked the streets of Cincinnati. And to my writing friends who pull me up when I stop believing.

Acknowledgements

Big shout out to my most awesome editor, Antonia Tiranth.
 
Thanks for loving my characters as much as I do.

Chapter 1

The presence of a fairy is a blessing in a young witch’s life. Parents should nurture this connection, not question the imaginary friendship. If a witch doesn’t have a blessing fairy, applications may be made to the inter-species council. Less than beneficial relationships are not a valid reason to apply for a change in assignment. So suck it up.–The Academy of Witchcraft Manual, Volume 3, page 43.

“Fairies, witches, and elves. What else am I supposed to believe? Gremlins are running around the town square?” Parris McCall sat curled up in her floral wing chair, reading a training manual, which was sounding more and more like the fairy tales her mom used to read at bedtime. Dragon curled next to her, sleeping peacefully. Parris absently rubbed the Pomeranian’s furry tummy as he stretched into the caress. She half expected to turn the page to read the story of Hansel and Gretel. She closed the leather bound book and tossed it on the coffee table. Wincing at the thud it made, she stood, and stretched the kinks from her back.

“Giving up so soon?” Derek Chandler looked up from the display screen. He’d been researching Parris’s family tree, or at least he said he was researching. For all she knew, he could be visiting porn sites on his laptop. The Council assigned Derek to train her in her new witch hunter role. Ty Wallace, her other trainer, was Derek’s best friend. Parris didn’t know how to define her relationship with Ty, but she’d worry about the details some other time. First, she needed to learn the basics of being a witch. Ty held the position of The Council’s best witch hunter, the man who made her toes curl when he walked in the room and the one who’d turned her life into this mess. “Eight year olds fly through these books. You’re taking forever.”

“Eight year olds aren’t running a business. Coffee. I need coffee.” Honestly, she needed a taste of the aged bourbon she’d kept on the home bar. She glanced at the clock. Quarter after nine in the morning, probably too early to chug a quick shot.

“Alcohol doesn’t help you study. Believe me, I’ve tried. In college, I spent an entire semester drunk.” Derek followed into her bright, sunny kitchen and poured them a cup out of the already brewed pot. “Fun times. Of course, my GPA dropped like a rock. Eventually, my friends threw an intervention party.”

“Who said I wanted a drink?” Parris sat on one of the wooden chairs surrounding her small kitchen table, curling her feet under her. The warm coffee flowed through her, making her feel like she’d been covered with a fluffy down blanket. She sat straighter. “Knock it off.”

“Sorry, I forgot you’re sensitive to comfort spells.” Derek took a sip of coffee too. “Although you did notice quicker today than yesterday.”

“I don’t need you or Ty calming me down. If I’m upset and want to talk, I will.” Parris twisted a strand of her curly black hair absently. She felt the weight of the world on her shoulders. Or at least the weight of her and Grans’ existence. Two months ago, she’d been a happy bar owner, different but adapting in what she thought could be a normal life. Her life.

Unfortunately, her normal life consisted of a freaky witness protection program her grandmother crafted after the deaths of Parris’ parents. An accident looking like a death hit sanctioned by a coven of witches no one knew existed before that day. A coven made up of smoke and mist. She shouldn’t be so rude to Derek. It wasn’t his fault he’d been assigned to be her teacher. He couldn’t help that.

Parris still hated him for his cool demeanor and insistent questions.

“Most students read the first five volumes before they’re even admitted to the academy. The books help explain the witching world and our place in human existence. The fairy tale style of writing makes the lessons easier to understand. I don’t think the authors ever imagined their book would be used to train an over thirty witch just learning of her power.” Derek peeled a banana. “And, please, you know I can read your thoughts. Don’t play dumb with me regarding the bourbon.”

“No wonder Grans always seemed one step ahead of teenage me. Now, it makes sense. She knew I planned on sneaking away with Nick Cook.” Parris grabbed a peanut butter cookie off the plate. She’d baked this morning. Sleep was overrated. At least her body thought so. “I’m having trouble wrapping my head around the things I thought were make-believe.”

“And that’s why parents tell their children early, when they can handle the announcement. Kids haven’t had magic drilled out of them by the human world. You’re at a disadvantage, embracing your power now–belief is harder for adults. Not to change the subject, but your grandmother did an excellent job of covering your past. I finally found a small newspaper piece listing the accident.” Derek ran the tip of his finger over the coffee cup.

Parris’s heart stopped. “Are you sure? What did it say?”

“I can’t be sure, the article is short. The St. Louis Post reported a car crash on a rural Illinois highway in 1975, killing Mark Brown, his wife, Sarah, and their five-year-old daughter, Paige. Police assumed the driver fell asleep at the wheel driving home after attending the theater in St. Louis. Apparently they found ticket stubs in the car.” Derek watched her.

“But I wasn’t there. Why would the paper say a five-year-old was killed?” Parris frowned. She turned the name Paige over in her head. Even though she knew she had been given another name at birth, she’d been Parris most of her life, she didn’t feel like anyone else. “There couldn’t have been a body. Our last name wasn’t Brown, I’m pretty sure of that.”

Derek sighed. “I think your grandmother glamoured the documents to show the fake name.”

Parris put the cookie down. “But what about the child’s body? Could she glamour that?”

“No. There had to be a real child’s body at the accident scene. The report says Paige had been thrown from the car–she wasn’t wearing a seat belt or in a car seat.” Derek wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“So you think my grandmother found a dead body of a five-year-old and planted it on the scene so The Council would think they killed me?” Parris couldn’t control her rage. No way Grans would do something like that. Besides, where would she find a body?

“Don’t judge. This happened a long time ago and, if it’s true, she did what she thought best.” Derek pushed the plate of cookies toward her. “Ty’s over there now working on reversing the forgetting spell she placed on herself after getting everything set. Matilda’s amazing. The woman thought of everything.”

“What if I don’t want this life? What if I don’t want to know my grandmother is a witch? Hell, that I’m a witch?” Parris took a sip of her coffee and stared at Derek.

“My lovely, you don’t have a choice in the matter. The Council made the point clear.” Derek stood and refilled both their cups. “Once they’ve decreed something, no one can break the agreement.”

Parris watched Derek return to his computer in the dining room. He was right. She couldn’t turn this knowledge off. She wanted to turn time back to the moment Ty Wallace walked his sexy, six-two lanky frame into The Alibi and kick him to the curb. She’d felt danger seeping from the man in a wave, yet she’d ignored the warning signs. She’d thought she might lose merely her heart, not her entire life and history. Now, there was no going back.

She had been born a witch. Time to learn to act like one. And quick. The Council had made it clear a first blood strike seemed imminent. A long overdue fight between two rival covens would not only put the witch community in jeopardy but also endanger the human world. The Council wanted humans to stay ignorant of their interweaving into the mix as long as possible. Forever would be preferred.

She took her second cookie and coffee back to the living room where she pulled the book close and resumed reading. If she had to be a witch, she would know everything about the life she could learn. And then some.

Two hours later, she finished Volume Two. Volume Three sat on the table near Derek. She scooted the sleeping Dragon over to a pillow on the couch, stood and stretched. She dropped the book on the table as her cell rang.

Derek shook his head.

Smiling, she answered the call. She might be able to ditch study hall, sooner rather than later. “April, what’s going on?”

Parris listened to April’s concern over the morning’s delivery. The supply truck had only delivered ten cases of beer and with the weekend approaching, the bar would be short if the delivery wasn’t fixed. Her smile widened.

“I’ll be right there.” Tucking the phone into her purse, she shrugged her shoulders. “April needs me at the bar. We can continue tomorrow?”