Many Blessings
Coffeeshop Coven -1
by
Tymber Dalton
To all my friends and loved ones, on both two feet and four, who’ve moved on to the Summerland. Namaste.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Characters are funny things. We authors often talk about the “voices” and how we can’t control them. I envy the “plotters” who can perfectly script how and where a book is going. I’m a pantster, which means I’m frequently at the mercy of my characters. The “voices.”
Having explained all of that, if you want to read the backstory of what happened at the Corey house and the events that led up to, and overlap, where the prologue of this tale begins, please pick up my book Out of the Darkness from Siren-BookStrand. (Matt and Sami also appear in Red Tide.) I wrote Out of the Darkness several years back, and it was an EPIC winner in 2010. But not too long ago, I had several characters pop into existence and insist there was more of a story to tell. It’s not necessary to read that book first to enjoy this one, but you will have a far deeper understanding of the other side of the events leading up to the series if you do.
This is book one in my Coffeeshop Coven series. It centers around the New Age store, Many Blessings, and the people who…eh, haunt it on a regular basis.
Also, there is an official prequel to the Coffeeshop Coven, It’s a Sweet Life. It’s also not necessary to read that book before reading this one, but Libbie and her guys demanded their own story, so I thought I’d add them to the series so they would shut up and quit distracting me.
The town of Brooksville, Florida, really exists, as does the Croom Motorcycle Area of the Withlacoochee State Park. The mining pits and gravestone in the park also exist, although I’ve taken literary license with the history, the house, and other landmarks. I used to live inside the park, on five of the ten acres the Coreys resided upon. While my descriptions of the park don’t match the current details (the main road is now paved, among others) anyone familiar with the park for a number of years might find themselves traveling down memory lane.
Prologue
Mandaline Royce frowned as she stared at the image the Weather Channel displayed. On the screen, a large, pre-hurricane-season blob inexorably chugged its way toward the west Florida coast late that Wednesday afternoon. It would likely be named Tropical Storm Adelle within the next twenty-four hours.
“What the frak is going on with the weather?” Mandaline asked. “Doesn’t Nature know it’s not even June first yet? It’s way too early for a tropical storm.”
“You’re just bound and determined to manifest that dang thing right over us, aren’t you?” Julie playfully teased from the front windows. Both Mandaline’s friend and employer, she was currently emptying the displays of merchandise.
Mandaline twirled a long, brown lock of hair around her finger. “And you’re not? You’re clearing out the front displays.”
“That’s prudence. So is rolling down the storm shutters.” She turned and pointed to Mandaline. “Look, it’s nearly three. I seriously doubt we’re going to have any more customers in here today the way the weather’s looking. Get your butt home, pack, and get yourself and Damien back here ASAP.”
“Damiago.”
“Damien is a better name for that evil pussy,” Julie joked as she pulled her wild, curly red hair into a ponytail and twisted an elastic band around it. “Doesn’t matter. You two are staying here with me during the storm and not in that ratty trailer.”
Mandaline picked up the remote and changed the cable channel to a light jazz music station. “It’s not going to be that bad. That trailer can handle some wind.” Truth be told, she was looking forward to a little skyclad rain dancing.
Julie filled her arms with merchandise she pulled from the window displays and carried it over to the counter. “Bullshit.” She put the stuff down. “I need you here so I don’t have to worry about your safety. This building’s old, but it’s sturdy. I’m going to be over at the Coreys’ house tomorrow in Croom for most of the day anyway. I’d feel better with you here.”
Mandaline shivered. “I reeeeally wish you’d cancel that. Do it next week once the weather clears. And take someone with you. Like Sachi and her skeet gun.”
Julie’s expression softened. “They need me. I have to help. You know I can’t turn my back on them.”
“That house is bad juju, girlfriend.” Mandaline shivered again and rubbed her hands up and down her arms in a futile attempt to soothe the gooseflesh rippling them. “They should burn it down to the foundation, salt the ground, and deed it over to the state to make it part of the park.”
“Things can’t be evil. Energy can be dark, yes. But things can be cleansed of dark energy. You know that as well as I do.” She brightly smiled. “Besides, I really like Sami Corey. She’s a sweet woman. I think we’ll be seeing a lot of her in here once she gets through everything…”
Mandaline didn’t miss the way Julie’s voice faltered, the way her smile faded. Mandaline quickly rounded the counter and put her hands on Julie’s shoulders. “What is it? What’d you see?”
“Nothing.” Julie shook her head and pasted a fake smile on her face that didn’t fool Mandaline in the least. “The weather’s getting to me, that’s all. You know I hate these storm systems.”
Mandaline searched Julie’s eyes. “You saw something. Don’t lie to a witch, girlfriend.”
“Yeah, I saw your ass being blown away if you don’t spend tomorrow here.” From the force of Julie’s smile, Mandaline knew her friend wouldn’t reveal what she saw. “You lose power during a little sunshower. Your power will be out for days even if the trailer doesn’t fly away to Oz with you and Damien in it. Take that large cooler I’ve got in the back and unload your freezer and fridge into it. Bring it all here. We can put everything in the fridge in the break room.”
“Your power will probably go out, too.”
“Ah, but remember, I’ve got that backup generator now. And the propane tank for it is slap full, so we’ll be fine. I had them come top it off yesterday.” She headed back to the front windows for another armload. “Go on. Seriously. Chop-chop, kiddo.”
Mandaline sighed as she watched Julie. Her friend had seen something, had one of her uncannily accurate visions. Mandaline suspected something related to that damn Croom house.
She also knew her stubborn friend wouldn’t say what until she was ready. “Fine. I’ll go pack.”
Julie waited until Mandaline left to flip the sign to Closed on the front door and sit down at her desk, where the shakes finally hit her. Persnickety, her shaggy little terrier mix, jumped up into her lap and whined.
Julie felt the tears in her eyes and brushed them away with the back of her hand. “I have to,” she whispered to the dog. “I have to help them. If I don’t help them, they’ll die. All three of them, tomorrow. George Simpson is coming through strong and using the storm’s energy to grow stronger. They have a chance if I go help.”
The little dog’s brown eyes stared up at her as if in agreement.
Julie hugged him close and breathed in the warmth from his body. “The future isn’t written until it’s the past,” she whispered into his fur. “I have to help them. May the Goddess help me write them a better past than what I saw.”
Still, she couldn’t shake the image that had invaded her mind. Of a woman, Evelyn Simpson, tied to her bed and being raped by her husband, George Simpson.