Witch Magic (The Cindy Chronicles)
Read Witch Magic (The Cindy Chronicles) Online
Authors: RaShelle Workman
From a seemingly insignificant word comes the most magical of fairytales.
Witch Magic (The Cindy Chronicles, Book One)
Copyright © RaShelle Workman
Polished Pen Press
Digital Edition
This book in its entirety is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book 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. Thank you for respecting the hard word of this author.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written consent of the author, RaShelle Workman, P.O. Box Bountiful, UT. 84010.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the creation of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by: Regina Wamba @
Mae I Design
Design copyright @2013 RaShelle Workman
Interior design by
Novel Ninjutsu
Even though this series is separate from Blood and Snow, I highly recommend you read that series first. Some of the same characters show up in the Cindy Chronicles, and I would hate to give anything away.
If you haven’t read Blood and Snow, click
HERE.
Thank you!
There are many people to thank: My critique partners, my fantabulous editor, MJ Heiser, those who’ve taken the time to be a part of creating Cinderella’s world with me and especially my husband and children.
Thanks you! Thank you!
A special thanks goes out to Cynthia Ann Powell and Kristie Davis Zapf. They had some great ideas with the creation of Leo, the gorgeous prince of Polonias.
Another special thank you to Regina from Mae I Design for taking the vision for this series from my mind and making amazing covers.
And last, but certainly not least, a thanks goes to Ali Cross for doing the brilliant formatting work. It adds more magic to the Cindy Chronicles world.
If the world was created with a bang, then magic began with a whisper.
The utterance
of one word.
Bloomous
.
That single
declaration, articulated softly, started it all.
Bloomous
.
It’s t
he reason I’m bound to a stake, fire licking at the tips of my shoes.
Know this. I didn’t ask to be a witch. Up until
three years ago I had no idea witches really existed. Turns out they do, and I am one. And that’s not even the weirdest part of my story.
It all began with my best friend, Snow White.
A Hunter bit her a few years ago. She was transformed into a revenant and finally became a vampire—
the
Vampire. Those events changed the course of not only her life, but mine as well.
Before her fateful night
and consequentially mine, my life consisted of hanging out, working at a local Italian restaurant, shopping, boys, and more shopping.
No more though.
Not since I went to Mizu to save Snow’s mother, Ariel, and had a vision… or a dream… or whatever you want to call it. In the dream, my “Fairy Godmother” told me about Polonias, a land I knew nothing about.
Now I’m in
said land, framed by the vile sorceress Mizrabel for crimes I didn’t commit. Bound by enchanted chords and condemned to a fate there’s no escaping.
“Cin
derella, by issue of King Loyalor, supreme ruler over the land of Polonias, you are hereby sentenced to burn at the stake until such time as you are dead.” The bulky guard reads from an unrolled parchment, his beefy fingers gripping it steadily. He glances at me. And through the billowing smoke, I hold his gaze. He clears his throat. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
O
nly one word pops into my head. “Merde.” A curse word in French. One of my favorites. Truthfully the one I remember most often.
The man rolls
his eyes along with the parchment and steps off the podium into the noisy crowd.
Some
of the people are crying. Okay, one person is crying: my Fairy Godmother. Beside her, dabbing her bright lavender eyes with a hanky is my friend Violet. She’s a talking cat, specifically a talking spotted leopard. Yeah, I know.
Bizarre
. But it’s a fact.
Next to her are two
oversized brown bunnies with white ears. Each stands two-and-a-half feet tall. They also talk and spend some of their time as one five-foot-tall woodland fairy thanks to a spell gone wrong. At the moment they’re holding each other, bawling enthusiastically.
Seeing
them here, knowing they care, lifts my spirits. A little.
The one person I wish was here isn’t
and it breaks my heart. His name is Leo. He’s the king’s son. I’ll admit I have feelings for him, but never to his too-perfect face.
Everyone else
, including the fairies, the water sprites, and the gnomes, is screaming obscenities and throwing rotten fruit. At me. A tomato smacks me in the forehead and its juices leak into my eyes.
Not my finest hour.
At least I look gorgeous. Or I did, before the dumb guard lit the wood piled around my feet on fire with that stinking magical word.
Bloomous.
My Fairy G
odmother, Quilla Templeton, created a strapless blue gown. The bodice fits perfect, and the gauzy skirts float around me like cotton candy. I magicked my favorite shoes, Manolo Blahniks, to Polonias so I could wear them with the dress. They match perfectly. I look perfect. Magnificent, in fact. Ready to go to a ball fit for a princess.
At least I did.
Leo was supposed to ask me something. I think I know what. Or I thought I did. Now I’m not so sure.
I never made it
. And I haven’t seen Leo since yesterday.
“Ugh,” I groan, searching beyond the upset
crowd to the land beyond. Smoke washes out the landscape, but not enough to hide the colorful loveliness.
I’m a
little afraid. I’m not ready to die. But I don’t see a way out of my situation.
Closing my eyes, I steady myself. If this is how it must end, then I’ll go gracefully. Frightened butterflies dance in my belly. Memories—
some recent and some from long ago—careen across my mind. And I wonder if I could’ve done anything differently, something to prevent my demise. But as with any horrific event, my predicament is the culmination of many choices, each one pressing me forward to this fateful moment.
