Cursing Up the Wrong Tree Read online

  Cursing up the Wrong Tree

  A Hex on Me Mystery

  Book Two

  KENNEDY LAYNE

  IF THE CURSE FITS

  Copyright © 2019 by Kennedy Layne

  Kindle Edition

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-943420-77-3

  Print ISBN: 978-1-943420-78-0

  Cover Designer: Sweet ’N Spicy Designs

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Dedication

  Jeffrey—You’ve always loved werewolf movies, so this story is just for you!

  Cole—It’s not a chupacabra, but it’s close!

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  About the Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  About The Squeaky Ghost Gets the Curse

  Books by Kennedy Layne

  About the Author

  Witches, warlocks, and werewolves, oh my! Things get rather hairy in the next installment of the Hex on Me Mysteries by USA Today Bestselling Author Kennedy Layne…

  Lou and the gang start out with every intention of tracking down a medium who they hope can speak to her ancestors and gain vital information in an effort to break the hex cast about by the only known immortal Lich Queen. They should have known their trip wouldn’t quite go as planned.

  Another vision that Lou has been cursed with comes to fruition, this time in the wilds of the Wyoming back country. What was the victim doing miles from civilization without adequate supplies? Residents in the neighboring town know more than they’re saying, yet all the evidence points in a different direction.

  Things are about to come to a head under the light of the full moon. You’ll need to make sure you have a bit of silver in your pocket before joining Lou and the others for another mystifying whodunit…this one promises to have fangs!

  Chapter One

  The golden sun continued to climb over the horizon of the Midwestern state of Illinois as if it were any other morning. For most people, that would be completely ordinary. They would be hitting their snooze buttons on their alarm clocks two or three times, hoping for five more minutes of blissful sleep with each pause. Eventually, they’d accept their fate as typical drones and begin the routine of another mundane workday. Covers would be tossed to the side, the waking populace would grimace as the cool air of the bedroom hit their warm bodies, and then the soles of their feet would touch the chilly surface of the hardwood floor. They’d be left with that one nagging question—was today the day they’d throw in the towel and turn on their heaters?

  Unfortunately…or not…I didn’t have that problem.

  I was no longer awakened by an alarm clock, I didn’t own a nice house with beautiful hardwood floors, and I certainly no longer had my teaching job at a community college on the West Coast, which I had loved. No, having a normal existence would have been asking too much in this crazy, absurd life I was currently living.

  You see, I was a cursed witch.

  I’d never known there could be such a thing, and I certainly would never, ever have suspected I could be so unfortunate as to be one. Let me just say that it was now perfectly clear that the old adage never say never held a bit of sage advice.

  Anyway, I’d needed a bit of fresh air, but it wasn’t like I could go very far.

  I was currently standing next to a cornfield watching the sun come up over the horizon. There were no cornstalks to block my view, considering that the fall harvest season had just ended. The now barren land looked much like what my life had become—free of any new growth. I wasn’t the type to feel sorry for myself, but every now and then I needed a moment of privacy to decompress.

  I’d found that reflection wasn’t always a bad thing. It put things into perspective.

  I shoved my hands into the pockets of my black leather jacket and lifted my face to the cold morning air in hopes that it would both reinvigorate me and help rid me of this massive headache.

  Good luck with that, Miss Lilura. I need a spot of warm cream after that lovely vision.

  “Pearl, what are you doing up at this time of the morning?” I asked the sleek white familiar who’d suddenly materialized beside me. She just had to bring up my most recent vision that was responsible for my current mood, didn’t she? A quick glance at the brand-new RV that I’d invested three quarters of my trust fund into revealed that no one else was up and about on this early Friday morning. “And could we please dispense with the use of my surname? We’ve been traveling together for over a week. Can’t you just call me Lou like everyone else?”

  I’m not everyone. Just so you know, if I were to call you by any other title besides your given name, it would certainly not be a nickname that rhymes with goo…or the loo. You were born Tempest Darcinean Lilura. Have some small morsel of pride, dear hexed one.

  What I needed was some peace and quiet away from my companions.

  Want and need are two completely different things, my dear. A bit of humor can make life far more enjoyable, as I’m sure you know.

  “You should go back to sleep for another hour or two,” I suggested, thinking about the next twenty-four hours. Humor would have to wait until I was free of this hex the Lich Queen had bestowed upon me. “We have a long drive ahead of us, and we’re all going to need our wits about us when we get there.”

  The we I was currently referring to was the warlock and another witch who’d chosen to help me with this impossible quest I’d set out to complete. Orwin Cornelia and Piper Allifair were literally helping me keep my sanity as this curse continued to take its toll. These past eight days had been the longest I’d gone without a vision of death.

  A toll, Miss Lilura? Well, you’ve certainly managed to vastly understate the magnitude of our dilemma. I must say, it almost feels as if I’ve been rolled over by a steamroller. But I digress. Getting back to seeing the lighter side of things, it would behoove you to force a laugh once in a full moon.

  The English-accented white familiar hailed back to the days of Cleopatra. The wise feline was about as prim and proper as you might think an English lady of title might expect. There wasn’t a single white majestic hair out of place, and she had the most beautiful green eyes I’d ever seen on a cat. With that said, she was also a tad bit obsessed with etiquette…and now, apparently my lack of humor.

  An important detail to know about Pearl was that she wasn’t my familiar. She belonged to Piper, so the sage feline was technically compelled to follow Piper on this quest without a choice.

  Don’t believe for one moment, dear hexed one, that I did not have a choice. My sweet Piper might have a heart of gold, but even she can see reason when it is pointed out…especially by a familiar like me. Your predicament might have tugged on both of our heartstrings, which is why we are now in the middle of a cornfield just outside of Timbuktu. If it wasn’t for the comforts afforded to us by our new transportation, I might be rethinking our decision. As for etiquette, we are civilized beings, are we not? We shoul
d act accordingly.

  I’m not sure what incredibly naïve moment of weakness made me believe a few moments of alone time would make my so-called predicament seem less desperate. It was more than a predicament. I wasn’t even sure one could call such a curse a predicament.

  I was trying to be mindful of your feelings, my dear. I may have missed my mark. It does happen from time to time. However, if you’d been taught proper manners, you would have accepted my gesture.

  The throbbing in my temples pounded even harder. Truth be told, I had trouble accepting more than a few slights these days, and I’ll tell you why.

  You see, I’d inadvertently encountered whom I believed to be an elderly witch over four months ago—only she hadn’t been but a mere witch in centuries. No, Ammeline Letty Romilda was the legendary myth of the paranormal community that had been used for many, many years to keep little supernatural children in line within the covens. I’d found out the hard way that she wasn’t just a character in an old wives’ tale. If only they knew the truth, those children had every right to be scared.

  A monster walked among us with the outward physical form of a sweet elderly woman.

  Ammeline Letty Romilda was essentially immortal, and she was currently the only Queen Lich in existence to anyone’s knowledge. I’d rather there be none, but that was a work in progress.

  Of course, that would require that Ammeline’s phylactery—a plain wooden cane she always carried with her—to be crushed against the well of time or any other standard method of destroying a magical artifact. Not your everyday milk run. Not by anyone’s measure.

  It’s alright, my dear. Not everyone has perfect timing. After all, we’re just mere supernatural beings.

  “I was hexed with the foreshadowing of death, all because I said good morning to a thief who’d stolen Ammeline’s cane—the same one that stores the source of all her power. I should have skipped my morning coffee that day.”

  Yes, that is true. If it makes you feel better to think bad timing was the sole factor responsible for your dilemma, it could have easily been someone else in your unfortunate situation. And one without the means to travel around the country in an attempt to save innocent people from passing through death’s door prematurely. Fate does make sense if one stands far enough away to see the alternatives.

  “You’re just a lovely ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” I asked wryly, giving up any hope for a moment alone. Nothing like a heavy dose of reality first thing in the morning just before getting on the road of one’s destiny. It was just as well. We had a long day ahead of us and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. “Go ahead and wake up the others. They should know that we need to take a slight detour to Wyoming. We have a mystery to solve. As usual, time is of the essence.”

  Chapter Two

  The long black strands of my hair whipped into my face when a gust of cold wind came across the harvested land. My eyes watered at the abrupt invasion, and it was a harsh reminder that winter wasn’t far away. How many more mysteries would we be forced to solve by the end of the year? I wasn’t sure how many more graphic visions I could take without losing my mind.

  Which is why one shouldn’t be alone after witnessing what was basically a horrible death. You seem to forget, my dear, that I am linked to all thoughts of witches and warlocks within range. That poor, poor man. What a horrible way to die. Although, I do believe my stomach has settled enough to enjoy a spot of warm cream now. I’m sure I can even summon the strength to tell you a knock-knock joke, if you’d like. Or maybe the one where a witch walks into a bar.

  The only thing my stomach could handle right now was coffee. Apparently, I wasn’t refined enough to bounce back as quickly as Pearl after having such explicit visions.

  You grow accustomed to such things over the centuries. Knock-knock.

  “I’m not answering that door right now, Pearl.”

  I began the short trek back to the massive RV that pretty much held every convenience we could possibly need, given the circumstances. I had purchased a fifty-two foot long Powerhouse Custom Motor Coach in a multi-tone grey motif. It had four slide-outs, a Motorsports Sky Deck on the roof with internal access from the main cabin, and all the amenities we could want from a traveling home.

  I must say, I am enjoying my soft bed near the skylight up front. It’s very relaxing to view the twinkling stars at night and be awakened by the first rays of sunshine peeking over the horizon. I do not, however, appreciate being jarred from my sleep by a vision of a man being mauled to death.

  I grimaced when I recalled the vivid imagery, as well. Maybe I’d forgo that cup of coffee for the moment. At the rate I was going, I’d end up with ulcers. I didn’t have time for any unscheduled medical emergencies. If we weren’t attempting to save someone from death, we were busy looking anywhere and everywhere for a remedy to this horrible hex I’d been cursed with by Ammeline.

  “The guy we saw in the vision could still be alive, Pearl. We might still have time to reach him.”

  I pulled open the door to find that Orwin was already at his desk. His jet-black hair was sticking up every which way due to bedhead, and his black-rimmed glasses were a bit askew. He must not have put on the coffee, because the only aroma I could smell was the pumpkin spiced plug-in that Piper had bought on our last stop. She had a thing for pumpkins—pumpkin spiced coffee, pumpkin pie, pumpkin fragrances, you name it. I was about pumpkined out.

  “Good morning, Orwin,” I replied, regardless that we’d definitely had better mornings.

  Orwin—my resident tech genius—must have just turned on his computer, because the red and white lights of his machine were still whirring to life. With the amount of research that needed to be done for my so-called predicament, there wasn’t enough high-end computers nor bandwidth in the world at our disposal.

  You’re forgetting paranoid conspiracy theorist in your description, Miss Lilura. Have you thought about getting Mr. Cornelia some professional help?

  “Time to reach who?” Orwin asked with a yawn, giving a cautious sideways glance to Pearl as she gracefully walked behind his chair toward the back of the RV as if she hadn’t just tossed out an insult. He promptly sneezed three times in succession before being able to reach for a tissue, but he certainly hadn’t missed Pearl’s intention. “And I don’t need professional help, Pearl. I could use some allergy shots, though. You just need to fess up that aliens did, in fact, land near the pyramids during your time as a kitten. I know you can hear me!”

  I sighed in resignation at the ongoing feud between warlock and familiar. Orwin was highly allergic to anything with fur, but he adamantly refused to lower the protection ward he’d placed on himself to prevent him from ending up in my position.

  I can’t say I blamed him one bit.

  It had taken Orwin close to two months to collect all the appropriate—and very rare—ingredients for such a powerful incantation. Witchcraft came in many different forms, but the heart of such abilities lay solely in the energy derived from earth.

  “We need to make a detour.” There was no use beating around the bush. I shrugged off my black leather jacket before hanging it up on the coat rack that I’d mounted onto the paneling of the RV near the door. The small antique piece we’d picked up in Kecksburg, Pennsylvania went perfect with the light oak décor, much to Piper’s delight. Honestly, I had been surprised there wasn’t a pumpkin carved into the wood. “Wyoming, to be more specific.”

  Orwin had tossed his used tissue into the wastebasket underneath his desk before reaching for his bottle of over-the-counter allergy medicine. With the large size of the RV, his allergies actually hadn’t been too bad. Well, if you discounted when Pearl wanted to make a point of some sort or another. She sure had a spiteful nature when provoked, although I’m relatively sure it was all in good spirits.

  “Good spirits?” Orwin asked as he pushed up his black-rimmed glasses. I might have forgotten to mention that he had the ability to read thoughts when he was within six feet o
f someone. Between him and Pearl, it was rare that Piper and I ever had a thought to ourselves. “That white sarcastic allergy-inducing feline is going to be the death of me. I’d rather go out by alien infestation, if given a choice.”

  “No such luck today, friend.” I took a seat at the kitchen table that was surrounded by a very comfortable booth. I reached for my laptop, hoping to find the specific area we needed to go to in Wyoming. The smallest details in the visions that plagued me were like finding needles in a haystack. “Dying isn’t on today’s schedule, but a road trip is as soon as I can figure out what town we’re headed to in Wyoming. I don’t have a lot to go on.”

  Orwin allowed the silence to grow, knowing me well enough that I usually needed a bit of space after a vision. Pearl had yet to figure that out, but it was oddly comforting to know that I wasn’t alone in my misery.

  Don’t get me wrong.

  I wouldn’t have bestowed this hex on my worst enemy, but there was something to be said for being among allies when things hit the fan.

  “Do we have time left to save the victim?” Orwin asked quietly, having given me the time to start up my laptop and begin researching the small towns of Wyoming. He didn’t need to expand on his question. I knew exactly what he meant, and I didn’t have a definitive answer. We were at least seventeen hours out, if not more, from an area where the death I’d foreseen would happen within the next twenty-four hours. It was always a race against the clock, and we usually fell short of preventing the actual event from happening. “Tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll see if I can put the parameters in the search engine I’ve been working on over the last two weeks.”

  I hated that I had to recall the most minuscule details of my visions, but every aspect of what I saw could literally mean the difference between life and death.