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  ABOUT CALISTA FOX

  * * *

  Calista is a former PR professional, now writing fast-paced, steamy books to set your pulse racing! She has won many Reviewer’s and Reader’s Choice Awards, as well as Best Book Awards. Calista has crossed the country many times over by corporate jet and travels internationally, always with her laptop in tow to capture intriguing story elements and exotic locales! She is also a member of Romance Writers of America and a Past President/Advisor of the Phoenix chapter.

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  WITCH’S PASS

  Kayce Lassiter

  “SpellMaker” series

  * * *

  Book 0.5

  Acknowledgement

  I want to thank my “sis”, Barbara Thompson, for many of the fabulous concepts in this series. She is my inspiration, and a large part of my heart. Without her, there would be no SpellMaker.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Quayk grunted as the vines dumped her to the ground in a heap. She surged to her feet and dusted leaves and debris from her legs and arms, plucking twigs out of her long, black hair and settling her pink cowgirl hat securely on her head as she cursed. “Son-of-a-bitch!” She stabbed her fists on her hips and scowled at the vines as they retreated. Her face heated as anger began to build.

  “What the hell is your problem? I said I wanted to go to Arizona.” With a flourish of her right hand, she growled, “Does this look like a freaking desert?”

  She drew a breath and cut off the question she was about to ask. It would do no good. The Japanese Kudzu vines, which grew over everything in Tennessee, formed a vine highway that witches could use to transport themselves quickly across the country. The vines were magical and could transport her anywhere, but could only transport witches. They couldn’t communicate.

  Apparently, her assumption that the magic vines would understand her need was wrong. The stupid plant life was determined to return her right back where she’d started, rather than help her escape. So either they didn’t recognize her need to get far away from her hometown of SpellMaker, or they didn’t care.

  Idiot plants.

  As she chewed on the inside of her lower lip, another thought occurred to her. What if her father knew? If he suspected she might run, could he have tampered with the vines to prevent her from using Witch’s Pass?

  Does he have that ability?

  The skin on the back of her neck prickled and she looked over her shoulder. Her aunts were very talented witches with extremely powerful crystal balls. They were masters at scrying, and could see events and people at great distances. If her father called on them for help, they might be watching her now.

  Crap. They’re gonna catch me.

  She pulled in a steadying breath as a faint gong sound alerted her to the arrival of her familiar—a sugar glider named Mango, a cute little marsupial that looked like a cross between a bat and a mouse. Familiars were magical animals linked to each witch to assist them in their witchy endeavors. Most familiars traveled Witch’s Pass in the arms of their witch, but Mango’s special brand of magic enabled her to transport from spot to spot with nothing more than a thought. Unfortunately, that skill didn’t translate to an ability to take Quayk with her.

  Familiars often had powers similar to those of their witch. So, there was a good chance Quayk might get the ability to transport when she came into her full powers during the Coming-Of-Age Ceremony when she turned twenty-three, in less than a year. But for now, it was walk, drive, or use Witch’s Pass.

  Mango hated to travel inside the vines, so she usually insisted on meeting Quayk at their destination. The equivalent of the servant flying first-class while the master rode a slow mule. But Mango was stubborn—another trait generally reflective of her witch.

  “Nice of you to join me, Mango.”

  It was wrong to snap at the little sugar glider, but frustration churned inside her like a windmill in a hurricane, and the fear of getting caught had her hanging off the edge. This was the third time she had attempted to enter the portal to Witch’s Pass, and here she was again—in the exact spot she’d started from.

  Every time she entered the portal, the vines would encase her in the standard traveling cocoon, and then dump her right back out like a ten-year-old spitting out a peach pit.

  She bent to remove some leaves from the inside of her right cowgirl boot and straightened to stare at the entrance to the cave. This was where she and her younger twin sisters played as children, and as far as she knew, none of them had ever mentioned it to their parents.

  So when she began to stockpile traveling clothes, food, and money in preparation for her escape, this was the perfect place to hide her stash until she was ready to leave. No one came here anymore, except her when she needed to get away and think, and there was a convenient traveling portal right outside the entrance.

  An added benefit of using the cave to stage her traveling items—it was shielded by natural magic and impossible to either find, or see inside, through any of the traditional scrying techniques, such as crystal balls or tea leaves. She and her sisters discovered when they were kids hiding from their parents, they were virtually undetectable.

  She huffed a wisp of hair out of her face, as she considered her options. Because, for some reason, the magic vines were determined to keep returning her here to the cave.

  I need out of this town, and I need out fast. I will not be forced into a loveless marriage.

  If her father knew what she was up to, she would be locked in the ancient dungeons until she died of old age—or worse yet, chained in Hollister Firedrake’s dungeon until she died of heartbreak and loathing. Until she killed the bastard.

  How could anyone possibly think she would marry such a hateful, disgusting ass? Magic couldn’t have come up with a better way to ruin her life.

  Quayk sighed as Mango glided from a tree limb to her shoulder. She met the wide-eyed gaze of the little sugar glider, who now keened her sympathy for her master’s predicament.

  “I know,” Quayk whispered, “I’m sorry too. I’m a bit testy right now because these stupid vines won’t help me.” She thought a moment before adding, “I guess I’ll have to take the risk and drive myself out of town.”

  It would take longer than using Witch’s Pass, and there was the chance someone might recognize her truck, or her father might put out an APB on her. Any kind of mass transit was completely out of the question. She’d be caught and returned before she ever got out of Tennessee.

  Quayk’s chest tightened as she looked around the forest at the midday sunlight filtering through the tall, thick trees she would miss so much. Her eyes filled with tears. She had lived in the Smokey Mountains all her life and, while she had traveled a bit around the continental United States, she had never found anyplace quite like SpellMaker.

  This was her home, where her family lived, where she’d grown up with her younger twin sisters, Quyll and Quypp, and her brother Quyrk. This was where her heart was whole.

  Born and raised in these mountains, Quayk had always expected to fall in love, have a family, and eventually die here. But Hollister Firedrake had ruined everything—him and the stupid magic.

  Quayk scowled and swiped at the perspiration on her forehead as Mango warbled and rubbed against her cheek. It was late spring and still cool, but the humidity had already begun to build, and the stress of running away from the home she loved more than
anything had her sweating like a whore on nickel night.

  “What the hell do I do now?”

  Mango let out a low, raspy bark.

  Quayk scratched the top of her familiar’s head. “No. Going back home is not an option.” She plucked the little animal from her shoulder and cradled it in front of her face. “You don’t want to have to go live with that horrid Hollister, do you? He’d probably put you in a cage in the dungeon and never let me see you.”

  The little animal with the grey and black striped face stiffened in her hands as its ears pitched up and its large, bulbous eyes stretched wide.

  “Exactly. He’s a monster. I’m sure of it. He’d probably feed you nothing but bread and water.”

  The sugar glider’s ears wilted forward and its upper lids drooped as it issued a strangled squeak.

  Quayk cradled the familiar close to her chest. “Don’t worry. I won’t let it happen. But we have to get as far away from here as we can.” She chewed on her lip. “And we have to do it tonight, before anyone finds out we’re gone. This might be our only chance. If we blow this and they catch us, they’ll make me marry Hollister, and then our lives are ruined.” She locked gazes with the sugar glider. “Both of our lives.”

  The SpellMaker line, Quayk’s ancestors, had founded the town of SpellMaker back in the 1600’s, and many generations of SpellMakers have lived there ever since. They still owned the majority of the real estate and businesses in and around town, and were still considered the royal family by the witch community.

  Unfortunately, the life of a first-in-line witch princess was not all fairy tales. Even as the twenty-first century drew near, SpellMaker marriages were still arranged—especially if your title was “the royal bearer”—which meant you were the woman who would bear the next set of SpellMaker twins to help carry on the bloodline and the family businesses.

  The witch community was so steeped in tradition and silly superstition that there had always been rumors the SpellMaker family business was some big secret. She had taken some teasing in school about the family having big witch secrets, but it was ridiculous. Her father’s magic gave him the ability to make every venture he undertook a tremendous success, which had given rise to the stupid, jealous rumors about family secrets.

  Quayk had no doubt their business was exactly what you saw—ranching and the various tourist and witchy shops they owned in town. Businesses she would start learning and managing with her father after her Coming-Of-Age Ceremony on her twenty-third birthday. Unfortunately, that was the same ceremony that would marry her to Hollister.

  Quayk’s gut churned at the thought of marriage to that awful man.

  As time went by, the royal family struggled more and more to get the younger generations to adhere to the old ways, and young princesses often chafed under the mantle of family responsibility.

  Quayk fought it like a wild bronc tied to a hitching post. She’d been contracted at birth to marry Hollister Firedrake—a man she didn’t love, or even like—and she wanted no part of it.

  Supposedly, magic dictated the royal matches and would ensure love grew between the betrothed. All they needed was a contract and time together—magic would do the rest. But in this case, something had gone wonky.

  Quayk tried to give the man a chance. She really had. But the more time she spent around Hollister, the more she loathed him. Just the thought of his touch made her skin crawl, but tradition dictated she was expected to marry the man and have children right away. How could she do that when she couldn’t stomach the sight of him?

  She couldn’t.

  While her most secret dream had been to marry a man she was wildly in love with and have a family, she knew it could never happen. Even with the help of magic, she’d been unable to fall in love with the man she was “destined” to marry. And if even magic couldn’t make her fall in love, then why hang onto the dream? It was a pipedream meant for others.

  Quayk had tried for years to convince her parents she should remain single and have a career, that it was best for all. When she was eighteen, she had attempted to convince them she wanted to do a magic act in Vegas, become a hermit and live in a cave in the wilderness, enlist in the military, be a cowgirl on a ranch in Texas, or become an airline stewardess and travel to different countries.

  As she pled her case to her father, she’d railed against the unfairness in today’s world and labeled the practice as “positively archaic”.

  He’d refused to budge.

  She’d exclaimed she wasn’t marriage material, that she was defective, and had even gone normal to claim she was gay.

  To no avail.

  Her father never took her seriously.

  So she was left with no other option than to run—get as far away from SpellMaker as possible—and stay away until the mantle of “royal bearer” had been passed to a younger sister.

  Quayk stroked the fur of the sugar glider. “Maybe I could become a Chuck E Cheese mascot and wear a fuzzy costume so no one would recognize me.” She chuckled, “Or become a snake charmer for a circus or a human cannonball. I could use my magic to protect myself, and be very discreet so no one knows who I am, or that I really have magic.”

  Quayk sighed and plopped the sugar glider onto her shoulder. She hoisted her backpack off the ground and onto her other shoulder and started down a path barely visible in the undergrowth.

  “Guess I’m driving.” She glared at the vines that covered the trees on both sides of the path. “Since these stupid vines seem to be useless as a bra on a bull.”

  She had never driven outside of Tennessee, but roads were roads. Her first stop for gas would involve the purchase a map, so she could figure out where she was going.

  Easy enough, right?

  As she slogged through the forest to the spot where she had hidden her truck, Quayk wished her backpack weren’t so heavy. She’d spelled the pack to hold more than it normally would, but hadn’t taken the time to magically lighten it. The plan had been to let the vines carry the blasted thing.

  She jerked the strap higher on her shoulder. No time to put another spell on the backpack. She was burning daylight, and had to get out of town before her father realized she was gone and sent out a search party. Quayk trudged on, and shifted the heavy pack every few minutes. The load was a constant reminder of her father’s lectures on the dangers of impulsive spellcasting.

  She walked for about fifteen minutes, and was approaching her truck when a rustle in the vines to her right caught her attention. She stopped to stare. Within seconds, the air around the vines began to shimmer and a dark spot appeared in the middle of the stack of vines.

  “Seriously?” Quayk’s stomach churned again as she stared at the open portal in the vines.

  Having a strong spirit of adventure, she would normally have hopped into Witch’s Pass without question to see where they wanted to take her. But as contrary as the vines had been so far today, she was reluctant.

  “Oh, now you want to open a rogue portal and take me someplace? Where? Back to the cave? Back to the edge of the ranch?” She shook her head. “I don’t trust you now.”

  The sugar glider on her shoulder squeaked in agreement.

  The vines rustled and the portal stretched wider.

  Quayk drew in a heavy breath as she considered the offer. Her plan had been to use the vines to get out of Tennessee quickly, without a trace. Then she would use her magic to buy a car under a fictitious name and establish herself in another town far away—until the firestorm died down and she could return to her childhood home.

  Portals to enter Witch’s Pass were at fixed locations, and you had to know where to find them. However, the vines did have the ability to open a rogue portal wherever they wanted, if they sensed danger to a SpellMaker Witch, or if their magic detected a need to protect or transport the witch in order to facilitate an outcome magic required.

  Unfortunately, magic’s requirements weren’t always aligned with the witch’s.

  Quayk consider
ed her situation carefully as she pulled the sugar glider from her shoulder and cradled it to her chest. “I’m almost to my truck now. Within five minutes, we could be on the road. But it would take two or three days of hard driving to get to Arizona.” She bit her lower lip. “I could be there in a few hours with the vines, but I have no guarantee they won’t dump me back at the cave again.”

  The sugar glider keened as Quayk lifted the little animal to stare into its eyes. “You’re right, Mango. I don’t have much to lose. If the vines dump me back at the cave, it’s another twenty minutes back to the truck. But if they finally take me where I need to go, I’m days ahead of the track I’m on now.”

  She weighed her options. The vines were banned within the town of SpellMaker, lest an unsuspecting tourist accidentally entered a portal and ended up in Bangladesh. Her father had also prohibited them from growing within the boundaries of the ranch, so there was no danger the vines would dump her at his feet.

  “The worst they could do is dump me at the edge of the ranch or somewhere else on the perimeter of town, and I have to walk all the way back to my truck. It’s an hour, no matter where I am on the outskirts of SpellMaker. But I still stand to gain a couple of days.”

  She glanced at her watch. “It’s almost six now. It won’t be dark for a couple of hours and dad won’t start to look for me until sundown. Still enough time to get out of town—even if it’s a trick.”

  Quayk drew a deep breath, plopped the sugar glider back onto her shoulder, and adjusted the pack strap on her other shoulder. “Okay, let’s go.” She pointed at the portal, “But I want to go to Arizona.”

  Mango chirped in her ear, and Quayk reached up to hold the little animal in place on her shoulder. “No, I think you need to come with me. We can’t risk getting separated. We’ll lose even more time if you have to search for me. We stay together.”