Witch Out of Luck Read online

As you can tell, my child, I don't do feelings. I never have. I didn’t love your father. He was just a one-night adventure that resulted in a small, perfect miracle.

  You.

  I may not do feelings, Isabeau, but leaving you hurt. It hurt like my heart was being ripped from my chest as I still breathed.

  But we had to go, your aunts and I. We had no choice but to leave our hearts and face our own fate.

  By now you will know you have family, your cousins, and they, like you, will be feeling uprooted from reading their own letters. By teaming up, you three will be a force to be reckoned with.

  You all have power, so much of it.

  But you, my Little Dragonsong, have something more. You have a will that would defy the goddess herself.

  It will be up to you to see your fate through. Help your cousins, and by the goddess thrive.

  It won't be easy, but life never is.

  Since the day you were born, I have known the strength that lies within you. I saw it in your grey eyes.

  Use it and embrace your family. Don't trust Fate. She's a fickle bitch.

  Your mother,

  Blossom Moonchild

  * * *

  The tears fell in streams, and Isabeau was unable to stop them. The sobs caught in her throat, yet the letter didn't put her at ease. It didn’t answer all the questions she had held onto all these years.

  In fact, it only increased the sense of doom that was sitting in the pit of her stomach. Her letter had only pointed out quite clearly that her mother hadn't wanted her, which had been a punch to the stomach as well. Isabeau had spent most of her life on her own. It was the way of the Ambustios. The coven was there as backup only. You were expected to deal with shit yourself.

  Which was what she had done for the past 20 years— rely on herself and Bas only. The thing was, she had always craved family; wanted people to turn to when she wasn't feeling 100%. Now she had two cousins, and it just wouldn't process in her mind quickly enough.

  She dropped the letter on the sofa and reached for the small wooden box. It was carved with similar designs to what she had briefly seen decorating the house.

  Opening it, the interior looked almost too black to discern what was inside. Reaching in, Isabeau felt around until her fingers touched a small piece of material. Velvet to the touch, she pulled it out, surprised to see a small black velvet bag in her hand. Its heavy weight also surprised her. She quickly emptied the contents into the other hand.

  Silver glinted in the light as a pendant and chain was revealed.

  Each link was made of a figure of eight, until it reached the pendant. A triquetra sat in the palm of her hand and in its centre was a single stone. Its green depths shone and sparkled, pulling her gaze, making her want to look at it forever. Isabeau could feel the power as it radiated from the pendant, and felt the push to place the chain over her neck. The chain was long enough so she didn't have to undo it and could slip it over her head easily. As soon as the pendant settled between her breasts, she felt her initial anxiety vanish. Instead, it was replaced by something she had not felt in a long time.

  Love and peace.

  Her mother may not have wanted her, but she had loved her in her own way. The letter to some would seem harsh and unloving, but to Isabeau it was honest, a true account of how her mother was feeling. She didn't know what had forced her mother and her sisters away from their children, and a part of her didn't want to know, but there must have been a bloody good reason.

  “Why you cry?” The deep voice that came out of nowhere made Isabeau jump and squeal a little.

  “What the ever-loving fuck?” she cried out, as she jumped to her feet and faced the owner of the voice.

  Sweet goddess, he was a titan.

  How Isabeau kept her tongue inside her mouth, she didn't know. But she did— although inside she was drooling, and not just a little, like when you leave your mouth open at night, but tongue hanging out like one of those big-arse dogs after a long run.

  Whoever this guy was, he was gorgeous. Drop dead, panties gone, ovaries exploded gorgeous. He had dark hair that was messy and fell over the most intense set of blue eyes she had ever encountered. His jaw was chiselled, and his nose was a little crooked. He had silver lines that crossed over his face in places. They made Isabeau want to step forward and run her finger over them.

  Then there was his size. Wowzas! Tall enough that he had to bend his head so it didn’t hit the ceiling and wide enough that he would have to turn sideways to fit through the door. The guy was humongous.

  “Why you cry?” he asked again and squeezed his frame through the doorway.

  “Oh, err, because I was upset,” she answered. His appearance had thrown her off guard, and she had to fight hard for her thoughts. Why was she upset again, and oh my goddess how bloody big were his hands?

  “Upset,” he repeated back to her, and Isabeau nodded.

  “Yes, I was upset. I read something sad, and it made me cry,” she explained, though she had no idea why she did. Who was this guy?

  “I no like,” he said, and his voice dropped to an even deeper pitch, making her heart thump against her ribcage and her palms go clammy.

  “I don’t like crying either,” she admitted, and she didn’t. It was the one activity she avoided at all costs. It was just the mere mention of a mother, who she had never met, who had the ability to set her off in 0.1 seconds.

  “Then don’t,” he replied, and Isabeau realised in the second she had been talking to herself, he had managed to close the gap between them and now stood only inches away. His body heat poured off him in a wave, and the scent of the sea air filled her nostrils. It was that scent she loved, the one that told you you had reached the coast and sent a wave of peace and calm through you.

  “I couldn’t help it,” she breathed out, her voice losing any punch. Eyes wide, she watched as one of his large palms reached up, his thumb sweeping across her cheek in a gentle caress, ridding it of her tears.

  “Must learn. Too beautiful,” he murmured, and seemed as mesmerised as she felt. Those blue orbs made her lean into his palm. She wanted more of the heat that came from him.

  “Mmmm,” was all she managed.

  “Brutas!” The shrill voice shattered the sultry web that had been cast over them, and Isabeau moved away, shuffling around the coffee table in an effort to break the spell.

  “Brutas!” the voice called again, until a ginger tom cat sauntered into the room.

  “Yes,” the man answered, though his gaze never left her.

  “Ahh, there you are. Dave is getting all stressed again. I think you need to go back down to him.” The cat's voice was posh and demanding. He then turned his gaze on her.

  “Ahh, Isabeau, isn't it? Welcome to Kracken’s Hollow.”

  “Err, thanks,” she mumbled out, and watched the titan leave, his footsteps surprisingly light. “Who is that?” she finally found the breath to ask.

  “Oh, that's Brutas. He's a kra—” The cat stopped himself mid-sentence, tilted his head, then continued, “He's a guest here,” the cat answered simply, like he was stating an obvious fact, though she could tell he was lying.

  “Brutas— that’s a different name,” Isabeau observed.

  “Well, he’s a different kind of man,” the cat admitted. “Come along, I will show you to your room.”

  “Thank you.” She started to follow, then stopped and remembered her familiar. “Have you seen Bas about?” she asked, but as she followed the cat towards the stairs, she heard voices. Loud, sweary voices.

  She hadn’t realised that cats could grin until she saw the ginger cat with a smile that in any other situation would give her the willies.

  “Yes, he's alright. He's playing poker with Binky and Denzel.” He paused and tilted his head. “And by the sound of it, he's winning. Marvellous.” With that, tail ramrod straight in the air, arsehole on full view, the cat led the way up the stairs.

  Isabeau had a feeling this was just the start of the cr
azy whirlwind her life was becoming, and the thing was, she liked it. It felt like home.

  6

  Brutas slowly walked down the long stairway that led back into what had been his home. He barely fit, having to duck his head and walk sideways the entire time. The cavern had been his safe place. Yet now, it didn't feel like home. Now, it felt strange and cold.

  The change from kracken to human had been painful, excruciatingly so, but he had never told the guardians. He didn’t want them to blame themselves for his change, even though he knew they did anyway.

  They had been nothing but kind to him, even when he had been cold with them when they first came to Merlin’s Gate. Their role was to guard the Gate, and that meant his own role was now obsolete. But there wasn't much he could do now. Trapped in the form of a human, he had no strength or magics that could assist the guardians in their role.

  Dave, his brother, had not taken his change to human as well as he had. Dave hated being on his own in the cavern, so Brutas had spent most of his time with his brother, putting him at ease. He hadn’t minded before— until now.

  The blonde-haired beauty with the pretty tears had pulled him from watching the animals play cards. Her sobs had lured him to her almost like a siren could with their voices. All he had wanted to do was wrap his large human arms around her and stop those tears from falling. But he couldn't.

  Instead, he had wiped away her tears and found himself transfixed by how soft her skin felt and how beautiful her grey eyes were. He had always, as a kracken, found the female human form appealing. It was one of the reasons he may have sent a stray tentacle out to touch them. He couldn't help it. That was, until they had gotten the pokey stick.

  He didn't miss that damn thing.

  “Brutas, you are here. I felt so alone down here. It isn’t the same. Have the girls said when they can change you back? Now the third guardian is here, she can help.”

  Dave’s voice sounded in his head and gave him an instant headache behind his eyes. He loved his little brother, but when Maximus died, it had been left to Brutas to help raise Dave. Yet even at 120 years of age, he wasn’t even close to being mature. Dave was due to go through his final growth spurt, but if he kept complaining and being a total whinge bag, Brutas wasn't sure he would be alive to see it.

  Brutas had yet to mention to the guardians about being changed back. He had thought he would be desperate to, but now, not so much. He liked the food— no, he loved the food. He liked being out of the water and he liked wearing clothes— when they could find some that fit him.

  According to Arietta, he was much larger than average. He had always been told since he hatched that he was a larger than the average kracken. Maximus was big, and he was older, but his mother had said he would be bigger.

  But he hadn’t mentioned wanting to change back because he wasn't sure he wanted to.

  “Brutas, have you asked them? You can't leave me down here on my own. It’s lonely, and then the familiars come, and they talk so fast I can't keep up, and then there's the strange noises. I swear it's haunted down here.”

  Brutas sighed as he walked into the cavern. Yup, the headache was back, but he could understand what Dave meant, for the most part. The familiars were a talkative bunch. He was still getting to grips with talking as a human. It was harder than you would think. Didn’t mean he was stupid though.

  “Dave, calm down. I haven't had a chance to speak to them yet. They have a lot on with the new guardian showing up. We need to give them time. And for tentacles sake, you are a kracken, a monster of the sea. Feared by all. You should not be scared of ghosts.”

  Stripping, Brutas stepped out of his jeans and then pulled off his t-shirt, folding them as Maeve had taught him before he dived into the cool waters of the Gate. It felt good to be surrounded by the pressure of the water. It gave him a sense of safety and protection.

  “I can, too, be scared. Look at the one that appeared here. Even the girls were scared.”

  Brutas shook his head as he swam. It was amazing how they had come from the same parent, a kracken who had decimated fleets and put the fear of Poseidon into all that traversed her waters. Yet her youngest son wanted cuddles and feared ghosts. He even pouted, which surprised Brutas, because he didn't know their kind could pout.

  Smooth, strong strokes had him diving to the bottom of the pool that made up Merlin’s Gate. There was only one way in from the sea, but no human could survive it. With no air bubbles, it could only be travelled by a creature of the sea. And it was guarded well. Dave was currently the only creature able to guard it, seeing as Brutas had lost his tentacles and the ability to breathe under water.

  Poor Dave. He enjoyed spending time with the girls, having them pat his head, but he needed to grow up.

  “You are the guardian, Dave. You need to grow up. If they can change me, they will, but I will not rush them. You have to do your duty. They are relying on you.”

  Brutas sounded stern, but Dave needed to learn and Brutas wanted time to learn more himself and about the third guardian. He had been drawn to her instantly. He couldn't remember the relationship his mother had with his father. She never talked of him, but he did know that a kracken always had a destined mate.

  He wasn't sure if krackens and humans could even be together, but it was something to ponder.

  Feeling his lungs start to burn, Brutas pushed off the floor and headed to the surface. He would have to ask the pirate, or maybe the warlock. Seeing as they were bonded to the guardians, surely they would be able to tell him, or give him some advice. Something inside him told him it might be a possibility, but he wanted to be sure. Even if it was, would she accept him— accept a monster like him?

  Brutas wasn't sure, and the uncertainty wasn’t a feeling he liked. Taking a deep pull of air as he hit the surface, Brutas felt a deep sense of determination fill him. Having a family had never been on his list of things. Not yet anyway. There was always a time when a kracken would leave home to swim the seas in search of his mate.

  Only this kracken may have just found his right at home.

  7

  Isabeau had napped like she had never napped before. Exhaustion from the tomb and from the emotional turmoil must have affected her more than she thought, because as soon as her head had hit the extremely soft pillow in her room, she had been a goner.

  She was usually a dreamer, her mind going over things in her subconsciousness, but this time there was nothing but colour. A bright blue, one that reminded her of the ocean on a clear and sunny day, and of a set of eyes that wouldn't leave her. Surprisingly, she felt rested and ready to take on a family she had yet to get to know.

  It was a scary prospect.

  Her bags had miraculously appeared and been unpacked, the dresser in the room now filled with her things. She felt more at home in this room than she ever had at the coven. Grabbing her wash bag, Isabeau headed for the shower, only to stop and stare at the sight before her. In the tub.

  Her familiar, a small brown squirrel, floated on what could only be described as an inflatable drink’s holder shaped like a flamingo, his little toes dipping into the steaming hot water as he sipped on a cocktail whilst bubbles surrounded him.

  “Bas?” she questioned, but he didn't answer. Instead, he continued to hum a tune, one she recognised as the macarena. “Bastard! You furry little git. What are you doing?” she called out. Bas, who had been listening to his music through headphones, erupted with a scream that would have made a horror victim proud. His glass went one way, the inflatable popped, and the squirrel vanished beneath the surface of the bath, which was filled to the brim. When he appeared, he wore a bubble hat and looked more drowned rattish than squirrel.

  That was all Isabeau could take. The laugh that left her boomed through the small bathroom and echoed off the tile. Tears fell freely down her face as her familiar and best friend glared at her from the bath. His once fluffy, shiny tail floated amongst the bubbles and twitched with each laugh.

  “This i
s not funny, Izzy. Do you know how long it's going to take for me to sort my tail out now?” he huffed, his little arms folded across his chest.

  “What the hell were you doing?” she managed to heave out between laughs.

  “Relaxing,” he answered simply, and swam through the bubbles, towards the edge of the bath. “Are you going to just keep laughing at me or help me out?” he pouted, making Isabeau laugh even more. Gently, she reached down and lifted the damp squirrel out of the bath, bubbles and all, before she placed him on a towel.

  “This is not a holiday resort, Bas,” she sighed, and started to rub down the squirrel, smirking as his fur started to puff up, much to his displeasure. “Where the hell did you get the inflatable from?”

  “I won it from the parrot, although I'm not sure what he would be doing with it, seeing as he's a ghost.”

  “A what now?”

  “A ghost. You see…” Bas started to talk, and all Isabeau could do was listen as he told her the story of the ghost pirates, including Maeve's other half, who was a ghost but now wasn't due to something Maeve had done. And then Binky had told them about the siren, who had been Arietta's father, who had tried to hurt them all and gain control of the Gate, and then Ethan had shown up and saved Arietta.

  Isabeau had stopped her rubbing down of Bas to stare at her familiar. Was he going to take a breath? She wasn't sure how long squirrels could hold their breaths for, unless Bas had learned the art of breathing through his ears whilst he talked... and talked and talked. Sighing, Isabeau perched on the end of the tub and let him waffle on. Half of what he said made no sense, until he mentioned Brutas.

  “You see, Brutas was a kracken and changed when Arietta beat her father’s ghost. He's still getting used to being human, but he's doing well. Although the other kracken, Dave, doesn't like being alone.”

  “Wait, what? Brutas is a what?” she asked. Her eyebrows pulled down in a frown as her brain tried and failed to keep up with Bas.