Witchy Sour (The Magic & Mixology Mystery Series Book 2) Read online

  WITCHY SOUR

  Copyright: Gina LaManna

  ISBN: XXXX

  Published: June 10th, 2016

  Kindle Edition

  The right of Gina LaManna to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

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  Feel free to get in touch anytime via email at [email protected]!

  ** **

  Witchy Sour

  Contents

  Witchy Sour

  Synopsis

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  The End

  Thank you, Islanders!

  Books By Gina LaManna

  Synopsis

  A dark stranger. A deadly potion. A school for scoundrels…

  Lily Locke has barely had time to sink into her role as The Isle’s newest Mixologist when a series of events sends her world spiraling out of control. Her vampire cousin is overtaken by a serious bout of blood intolerance issues, and the key ingredient for the antidote is missing.

  Meanwhile, Zin is training day and night under the watchful eye of Grandma Hettie to break into the elite, male-dominated world of the Ranger security force, but it’s a constant uphill battle. Then Ranger X turns Lily’s world upside down when he breaks the longstanding rules of the island and throws both her heart and her head into a tailspin.

  Hooded strangers, dangerous potions, and a budding romance threaten to ruin all that Lily’s worked to achieve. Add in a stolen spellbook, and Lily's barely able to hold her head above water.

  When a body turns up on the beach, Lily must catch the murderer before a true battle begins...

  Welcome back, Islanders.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Dear Readers,

  Thank you for continuing on with the next story from The Isle! Without you, Witchy Sour couldn’t exist. I read every email, comment, and message I receive, and it always brightens my day. Thank you!

  Book Helpers:

  I appreciate each and every one of you who helped with this book in some shape or form!

  Joy – For making quotes sound good with your graphics!

  Stacia – Thank you for your patience, and for being more organized than I ever could.

  To Connie – For the cast of beautiful dolls – I can’t wait to show them off!

  Kim – For making me laugh!

  Dianne & Barb for your advance reading, and for your support.

  SMO’7 – For the most perfect palm tree on The Isle.

  ** **

  To Mom & Dad—For letting me believe in magic

  To Alex—For believing in The Isle. я тебя люблю!

  To Meg & Kristi—For being as good of sisters as Poppy and Zin

  To my Oceans Apart ladies—To the best book friends a girl could ask for

  To Sprinkles On Top Studios—my awesome cover designer. Photo Courtesy of Deposit Photos

  And last but not least, to all my family and friends, thanks for making me laugh.

  ** **

  Chapter 1

  “You have got to get some sleep.”

  I looked up, forcing a half smile at the surprise visitor lounging against the doorframe.

  “Watching that safe is not going to bring your spellbook back, Lily,” Ranger X said, sliding into the storeroom like a whiff of smoke. Despite his large frame, he moved like the wind, bringing with him the crisp, pleasant scent of the outdoors mixed with something else, something sharper. Peppermint, maybe. “Can I help you?”

  “No,” I sighed, letting my hands fall to the table and my head slump onto them. “I know your Rangers are looking for it, but…The Magic of Mixology is my future.”

  “It’s not so bad.” Ranger X clunked something on the table next to me, and a quick peek through my folded arms told me it was a bottle of wine. “They say the true Mixologist rarely needs to look up spells. It comes from—”

  “In here, I know,” I said, thumbing toward my chest. I had gone over this a thousand times in my own head. “But ‘in here’ is a little confused right now since I didn’t even know I was a witch until a few weeks ago.”

  Instead of responding with words, his hands carefully, cautiously came to rest on my shoulders. He let his fingers linger on my bare skin, waiting for an argument. I gave him none.

  With painstaking precision, he began to rub my shoulders, the skin exposed around my simple, spaghetti-strapped sundress. I groaned, a happy groan—the sound of stress audibly slipping from my muscles—before collapsing onto my arms once more, dipping my head onto a pillow of my own limbs.

  “You are wound tighter than a spring,” he said, kneading each individual knot with care before moving on to the next. “Not healthy, Lily.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” I mumbled, trapped somewhere between a state of bliss and shock. Ranger X had never touched me like this, and even if I’d wanted him to stop, I couldn’t have spoken the words. There was a magic in his touch, a tenderness that had nothing to do with spells or potions. “You don’t have to be here, you know. It’s late.”

  “I was heading home and saw your light on, so I decided to stop.”

  “You just happened to be patrolling The Isle with a bottle of wine?”

  His pause was fleeting, his fingers tensing on my shoulders until he sensed the joke, and laughed. “You’d be surprised at some of my terrible ideas.”

  For some reason, the awkwardness of his response made me snort with laughter, and I straightened up, even though letting his hands slip from my shoulders was a sin. “I don’t think it’s a bad idea at all.”

  “No?”

  I shook my head, finally taking a moment to tear my eyes from the empty safe where my spellbook once lived. This time I focused, taking a hard look at the man who flipped my stomach in somersaults. X must have come straight from the office because he was wearing a suit—and that man could wear a suit.

  Unfortunately, he was missing a few pieces. Somewhere along the way, he must have lost a t
ie, along with a few buttons from the top of his white shirt, leaving it open a bit lower than it should be, his tan skin exposed. The black mop of hair on his head was ruffled, and if I wasn’t mistaken, there was a tiny twig poking out of his messy locks.

  “Had some business to take care of before I came here,” he said with an apologetic shrug. “Sorry about my appearance.”

  I swallowed in lieu of a response. To me, he looked perfect. The scar over his eye decorated his expression, making him appear both tough and vulnerable.

  I raised a hand to his cheek where a small scratch gleamed red. “You’re hurt. Let me get you a bandage.”

  Ranger X wrinkled his nose like someone had unleashed foul egg odor. “For this scratch? No.” He gave a devilish wink. “Think this is bad? You should see the other guy.”

  My eyes widened with a mixture of disbelief and horror. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing. Nothing bad, I promise.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you lying to me?”

  “No?” He pursed his lips, his eyes searching for a way out of my interrogation. “Want some wine?”

  I gave him a slow roll of my eyes that showed I knew he was changing the conversation. However, I didn’t have the strength to argue with him. “Only if you’ll join me for a glass. I’m already depressed enough without drinking alone.”

  That got a smile out of him, and from somewhere in his suit he pulled a bottle opener and went to work on the wine.

  “You didn’t plan this at all,” I teased as he handed me a glass. I took a long sip of the deep, red wine, the rich taste warm and comforting. Between the backrub and the wine, I’d be counting sheep in no time. “What do you think about this?”

  Ranger X followed my nod toward the empty safe. He strode around the room, his brown eyes soaking up every detail of the place. When he finally returned to my side, he set those eyes on me.

  He said something, a mixture of words that probably made sense, but since I was too busy soaking up his presence, I missed all of them. Those eyes of his were so dark they walked a fine line between good and evil.

  “What do you think?” he asked, startling me so thoroughly that I sloshed half my wine out of the glass.

  “Um, yes?” I quickly grabbed a rag and wiped up the spill.

  “You weren’t listening.” It was a statement, one that curved the corner of his lips upward. “I was asking if you had any theories about who might have had access to the spellbook before it was stolen.”

  “Oh, well,” I paused in thought. “Gus, of course. The previous Mixologists. I’m sure there are others who have seen it. Gus doesn’t hide the manuscript. During the day, it’s almost always out on the table in plain sight. He’ll yell at people if they touch it, but I know for a fact that Mimsey and Poppy and Zin have flipped through it when he’s not looking.”

  “So, anyone who’s visited the bungalow could’ve seen it.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I suppose. We rarely locked it away. The night it was stolen was the first night we’d put it in the safe since my arrival on the island. Usually Gus is here so late, and back so early, he’ll either take it with him, or leave it out for a few hours.”

  “So whoever stole it had to know it wouldn’t be guarded—at least, not by you or Gus—on that very night.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” I said. “That would mean it’s someone close enough to know our schedule.”

  Ranger X merely raised an eyebrow.

  “It couldn’t have been,” I said. “With the exception of Harpin, I like everyone I’ve met on this island. Why would they steal from me?”

  “Does Harpin have a motive to steal the book?”

  I bit the edge of my lip. “Maybe. He’s been angling for my job for a long time. If he had the potions book, maybe he’d try to take over. Use it in his tea shop to cook up something deadly, I don’t know.”

  Ranger X seemed distracted, and it took me a moment to realize he was staring at my lips instead of listening to what I was saying.

  “Hey, you,” I said, reaching out and snapping a finger in his direction. “I’m talking to you.”

  He recovered as gracefully as possible, blinking and dragging his gaze up to my eyes. “I was…reading your lips.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, there’s a spell system guarding this book. It’s extremely thorough, according to Gus.”

  “I know the system, I’ve studied it.” Ranger X shook his head as my mouth opened. “Don’t worry, I have no use for your light reading. If I wanted your Mixology book, I’d already have it. Lily, believe me when I say—it’s not the book that I want.”

  The way his eyes played over my face, I sensed there was something else he wanted entirely. However, now was not the time to deal with our personal history. “You’ve studied the spell system?”

  He nodded. “I use it as an example when training new Rangers. It’s one of the most complicated security systems out there.”

  “Can you walk me through it?” I asked. “I’ve seen Gus’s rough sketch, but I don’t understand it. He’s not the most patient teacher in the world.”

  X’s eyes gleamed. “You don’t say. Where is he, by the way?”

  “Went home for the night. Even Gus needs sleep, you know.”

  “I’ll help, but then you must promise to get some rest, too. You were practically snoring when I rubbed your back.”

  “I don’t snore.”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  “All?” I raised an eyebrow. “Who does all include?”

  “Figure of speech!” Ranger X grimaced, a slight red adding to the tanned color of his face. “Lily, I don’t—I’d never—”

  “I know, I know, I’m kidding.” I reached over and squeezed his arm. I might as well have squeezed a brick. “Now, how does this system work?”

  ** **

  Hours later, well past midnight, Ranger X and I stepped back.

  “I think that’s everything,” he said slowly.

  “Isn’t that enough?” I surveyed our creation—a series of ribbons, threads of yarn, pieces of rope, all crisscrossing in organized chaos—and my eyebrows raised. “All these spells, and somebody still stole the book?” I asked, my voice colored with shades of disbelief and awe. “How?”

  “That’s the million coin question,” X said. “Don’t forget, there was also a spell on the safe itself. If someone who had never touched the book tried to remove it from the safe, an alarm would sound both here, and at Ranger HQ. It never went off.”

  “So that means someone found a way around the spell.”

  “That, or it’s someone who has handled the book previously. Someone who understands the intricacies of the spell system, and someone smart enough to fool them.”

  I sighed, not liking the list of names that were left for me to ponder. “I can’t think anymore.”

  “I have to get going, but it’d be a shame not to finish this wine.” He held up the bottle, a hopeful look in his eye. “Will you help me polish it off?”

  I held up my glass. “Can’t hurt.”

  “It’s good for you. Loosens you up.”

  I crooked an eyebrow in his direction. “You’re trying to loosen me up?”

  “Not you—everyone. I mean, not everyone, I mean wine loosens everyone up.” Ranger X closed his mouth, and then started over. “Do you want me to top off your glass or not?”

  I laughed, this unsure, awkward side of him was one I rarely saw. When he was around his team of Rangers, he was all boss, all the time. I liked this side for a change. “Come join me.”

  Before he sat down on the couch, he bent over a never-used fireplace, muttered a few words, and a fire began to roar. “Ambiance,” he said briskly as he joined me on the couch.

  We lounged next to each other, both of us sipping our wine in silence, pondering the maze of spells. To me, it looked all Beautiful Mind with a twist of chaos theory, and I was mostly glad there were people smarter than me to understand it.<
br />
  The only thing I knew for certain, however, was that whoever had stolen the spellbook was somebody I knew. Somebody who knew me, knew my schedule, knew the security system.

  That was a short list of people, and a list I didn’t like to consider under the circumstances.

  Instead of running over that list of names, it was easier to close my eyes and snuggle up on Ranger X’s shoulder. He worked nicely as a pillow. I curled my legs under my body and told myself I was only resting my eyes.

  The next thing I knew, my wine glass was lifted from my fingers, and a set of arms thick as tree trunks lifted me, cradled me, and carried me upstairs. I struggled to open my eyes through the haze, but sleep called louder than consciousness, and my body fell limp against Ranger X’s chest.

  He deposited me as gently as he might a kitten on my bed, the fluffy comforter enveloping me as he tucked the edges in snug around my shoulders.

  “Goodnight, Lily Locke,” he said, brushing strands of flyaway hair off my forehead. “Sleep tight.”

  I might have mumbled something back, but already, I was well on my way to slumber.

  When I woke in the morning, I found it impossible to remember if the brush of his lips against my forehead had been a sweet piece of reality, or nothing but a dream.

  ** **

  An orangish glow peered over the horizon and turned the sky a beautiful watercolor of cotton candy pink and Easter-egg purple. Taking a seat on one of the bar stools, I cupped a warm concoction both stronger and tastier than human coffee. Here on the Isle, it was known as a Caffeine Cup.

  I woke early this morning, despite my late evening with Ranger X. The memories of last night had me humming as I awaited the arrival of the regulars. The bungalow, as I’d so fondly nicknamed the beach house and bar combination, served as my home, workshop, and storefront. It was a cute place with purple and pink paint, and large windows hugged by rickety white shutters.

  I greedily stole the last few minutes of peaceful quiet for myself. The palm leaves rustled, the gentle lake waves lapped against the white sand shores, and the sky grew powder blue and free of clouds. The beautiful climate, one of sunshine and balmy temperatures, was controlled by a nifty little charm that allowed the islanders to live under tropical blue skies year round, despite our location in the middle of Lake Superior.