Fire Spell: Ivy Grace Spell Series 3

  formatted by E.M. Tippetts Book Designs

  Fire Spell by T.A. Foster

  Copyright © 2014 by T.A. Foster

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

  Cover Art by Once Upon a Time Covers.

  Interior design and formatting by E.M. Tippetts Book Designs.

  Books by T.A. Foster

  The Ivy Grace Spell Series

  Time Spell (Book One)

  Cover Spell (Book Two)

  Fire Spell (Book Three)

  Head Over Heels Collection

  London Falling

  Kissing Eden

  Hollywood Kiss Collection

  Finding Haven

  To Elizabeth and Hazel

  “YOU HAVE got to be kidding me. A western? They want me to write a western?” I wasn’t sure if my bottom lip was actually sticking out from pouting, but at this point, I didn’t care.

  “Ivy, it’s not that bad. You’ve already written two period pieces. You can do it again. Think of it as western expansion.” Jack smoothed out the papers on his desk and leaned back in his chair. His broad shoulders filled the frame. I couldn’t believe he looked so calm. Didn’t this go against every editorial principle he had? He should be upset.

  “But it’s a western they want? As in, cowboys, tumbleweeds, holsters, can-cans, that kind of thing?” I was out of my seat again.

  For over an hour, we had dissected the latest mandate from the Raven Publishing powers that be. The board had met last night, and this was the decision handed to me. Jack and I were making little headway. Up until now, I had been able to pitch and write plot ideas without interference from the corporate decision makers. Things were changing.

  “Why are you so resistant to the idea? You’re a phenomenal writer. You can write anything. I’ve seen you in action.”

  I blushed, thinking how much action Jack had actually seen, but quickly turned my thoughts back to the discussion that was heating up on another level. He couldn’t possibly be serious about this.

  He tried to explain. “It’s more of a pioneer, frontier, country type of novel. Think ranchers and cowboys just starting out in Tennessee. Romance. Intrigue. Mystery. The marketing team thinks this genre is on the upswing, and in a year or so, it will be the most popular script in Hollywood. It’s only a concept. It’s up to you what the story is. You are still in control of the creative process.” He read through a memo on his computer.

  I spun on my heels and thought I caught Jack eyeing my legs as I crossed the distance between us. I leaned on his desk and pressed my palms into the smooth mahogany surface.

  “Well then, if I’m in control, I don’t want to write a western.” I arched my eyebrows.

  He pushed back from his desk in frustration.

  Ann piped in on the speakerphone. “Jack, there’s a call for you. It’s Logan from accounting. Do you want me to take a message, or can you and Ivy spare a minute?”

  Even with the door closed, I was certain she heard the on-going dispute between us. I had done little to hide my displeasure from my editor.

  He sighed before picking up the phone. “Put him through, Ann.” He held up a finger in my direction.

  I wasn’t leaving. This conversation was far from over. I sat in the chair with my arms folded while Jack spoke to accounting.

  This was unbelievable. I couldn’t produce a book as if it were a Glamour Spell. It took time. I had to feel the right vibe. Find the right story. I crossed my arms, hoping Jack knew how irritated I was.

  Raven Publishing was a small publishing house in North Carolina, but the attention received from Vegas Star and Masquerade had put the unknown house on the national radar. Books that turn into blockbuster movies have a way of changing the landscape of even the purest intentions. Board members who used to sit and yawn their way through meetings suddenly seemed interested in the next titles the company churned out. More importantly, they were interested in my titles.

  I watched Jack as he ran his fingers through his hair. His white collared shirt strained over the tautness of his upper arms. It was mid-winter and the man still managed to show a hint of a tan. He mumbled something into the receiver then spun the chair around so he was facing the wall. I strained to hear his gruff voice.

  “Yep, yep. I’ll tell her. Um-hmm. Thanks, Logan. That’s exactly what we needed.” He placed the receiver on the phone and smiled. “That was Logan in accounting.”

  “So I heard. What was that all about?” This entire exchange annoyed me. I don’t think I had ever wanted to Stun Spell Jack before this. He had no idea how complicated this directive would make things for me, in addition to how much I detested westerns.

  “We’re going on a trip.” He started shuffling papers in his top drawer.

  I leaned forward. “A trip? I thought I was supposed to be writing the next great western.” Maybe I had let a little too much sarcasm drip through my words.

  “Oh, you are.” He reached into the back of the drawer and pulled out a brochure.

  I eyed him. He was acting distracted and giddy at the same time. I hadn’t seen him this happy since a year ago when we were in Las Vegas.

  “Care to elaborate, Mr. Coleman?”

  He stopped in mid-shuffle and laughed. “Sorry, I’m getting a little ahead of myself. Like I said, that was Logan in accounting. I put in a request for us to take a research trip. Usually, all of my requests are rejected because of financial constraints, but he just came back with the approved budget. We can go.”

  “What are you talking about? Research?” I tried to steady my voice, but there was panic under the surface. This couldn’t happen.

  “For your western.” He smiled widely. The lines around his eyes were warm.

  Ugh! Jack was less than forthcoming with any details about what was happening with the board, the new genre mandate, and now a mysterious research trip.

  “Seriously, stop shuffling papers and tell me what is going on. What trip are you talking about?”

  “We’re going to Nashville. It’s time you and me get away from Sullen’s Grove and get started on the next great Ivy Grace novel. You need a break from here. When can you be packed and ready to go?”

  Oh no. I shook my head and my chest tightened. “I can’t go with you—anywhere.” I didn’t mean for the last part to slip out.

  “Excuse me?” The smile dropped from his face.

  Clearly, I couldn’t go into how I had his memory erased to protect him, and I had spent nearly a year keeping my distance from him. This wasn’t the time to tell him why I shut the door in his face in New Orleans after the Masquerade premier, or why I almost never stopped by the office anymore. I wanted to. I wanted to tell him to stop pushing the trip and most definitely the western. You know, in case it killed him.

  “Didn’t I tell you I’m moving?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Yes, but I didn’t think you had a place yet.”

  He had me there, but a few white lies wouldn’t hurt.

  “I’m meeting with my realtor this afternoon to finalize things. There is no way I can take a trip. Maybe in a month or so?”

  He huffed. “I know your stall tactics.”

  “It
’s not stalling. I have to sign papers, get settled, make sure Cooper’s ok.”

  He shoved the folder back in his desk. “Two weeks. We’re setting aside time for this new book in two weeks.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip. Two weeks was better than tomorrow. Maybe Holly could help me dissuade him.

  “Ok. Deal.” I stood to leave the office.

  “Hey, you need any help with the heavy stuff or hanging things?” Jack ran his palm along his jawline.

  I turned in the doorway. “No, I’ve got it covered, but thanks.” I fought the urge to tell him how sweet it was he offered, or how I’d like to see him doing handyman things in my house. I had to keep all those thoughts to myself.

  I said goodbye to Ann on my way to the elevator. Jack wasn’t making my commitment to keep him safe easy. Being with me would only lead to danger, and according to my Foresight, his death. No crush or love story was worth that. The doors closed behind me, and I slouched against the wall, wishing everything could be different.

  IT WASN’T what I pictured. I already missed my cozy bungalow on Southern Avenue. The built-in bookcases, the spot by the front door that Cooper had worn thin with his wagging tail, and the glow of the gas lamps lining the street. This place was too new—too sterile—too cold.

  “Holly, I don’t like this one either.” I closed the kitchen cabinet and spun to face my cousin. I eyed the stainless steel light fixtures hanging over the island.

  “I know you don’t want to move, but it’s for the best.” Holly had one of those knowing looks. It was more maternal than cousinly. “And I guess you have a two-week time limit now.”

  I had called her after my meeting with Jack. I needed to find a place before he figured out I didn’t have one single box packed. Don’t get me wrong, I had been house hunting for a while, but it wasn’t as urgent as I led him to believe.

  “Hmm…well, it’s not going to be this place.” I surveyed the granite countertops and the refrigerator that had more buttons than my laptop. “Let’s go. I’ve had enough house hunting for one day.”

  “But, we have seen almost every available house in Sullen’s Grove. You need to pick one. Tick tock.”

  I sighed. “It’s not that easy. It has to have the right vibe. I can’t write in just any place. Don’t you think it’s ironic for someone who vacations in different decades that all of these houses have existed less than a year? There’s no personality—no stories in these walls. Absolutely zero history.”

  This was the third house we had seen today, and it had never been lived in. When we pulled into the driveway, I shook my head at the automatic sprinkler system watering grass seed. I sidestepped clumps of red clay that littered the sidewalk.

  Martha, my realtor, beamed at the modern-ness of the house. I could tell she was partial to new construction.

  “Just look at the grass you’re going to have. Beautiful. And doesn’t it feel nice to drive through those neighborhood gates?”

  She punched in the key code on the front porch, and ushered Holly and me through the front door. Her enchantment with my small town fame had worn off after the last appointment. It was clear I wasn’t anywhere close to making an offer on any of these properties today. I couldn’t exactly blame her. Nothing she showed me was good enough. I never once inquired about purchase prices, inspections, or escrow times.

  Martha was on the front porch waiting for us to critique the interior while she returned the calls of more serious clients.

  I ran my fingers over the state of the art security system by the front door. The entire house had been pre-wired and outfitted with top-of-the-line technology. There were even cameras at the entry points, and two built-in flat screens in the hallway and bedroom to monitor visitor traffic.

  The house was part of a new development on the outskirts of Sullen’s Grove, and was flanked by brick walls and a guard gate at the main entrance. All of this security was supposed to keep me safe, but it felt empty and hollow.

  After much family debate, I decided it was time to leave my little nest on Southern Avenue for a place that would offer more privacy and ultimately more security. My house was on one of the main streets of the Sullen’s Grove downtown district, and since Vegas Star and Masquerade, I was getting a lot more passerby traffic. So much so, that I couldn’t sit on my porch anymore to drink coffee or read without someone trying to snap a picture of me. I started taking Cooper out through the backdoor, and sneaking through the alley for our walks. Last week, I unloaded groceries from the trunk of my car, and a man reached around me and pulled a bag from my arms to help me up the stairs. That was the last straw.

  As much as I adored the house and cherished the memories I had made there, it was time to face reality—it wasn’t the safest spot for me anymore.

  “We can’t keep dragging Martha around town. Any place you choose is going to be great. You can paint, and add stuff—you know, make it yours.” My cousin was visibly frustrated. She had seen all of the houses with me.

  “I know. Maybe you could just erase the day from Martha’s memory so she won’t be so annoyed with me.” I giggled, but Holly was not amused.

  “Ok. I think we should put the house hunting on hold and go get a drink. We need a girls’ night. Don’t you agree?”

  I smiled. “Absolutely. Maybe you help me figure out a way to deter Jack from this work trip he wants to plan.”

  “That might take a few drinks.” She giggled. “But, really, a western? What are they thinking over there?”

  I shook my head and scrunched my nose. “I have no idea, but I need a story bigger and better than any cowboy they’ve ever heard of if I’m going to get out of it.”

  “True.” Holly’s eyes beaded together. “Come on. Let’s get those drinks. I think it’s time to let Martha know you’re not buying a house today.” She winked at me.

  Oblivious to the two witches conspiring to ditch her, Martha continued her phone conversation in the front yard.

  “Where did you have in mind?” I asked.

  “I know just the place.”

  Sugar Kiss was the hottest bar to hit Sullen’s Grove in years. It had a swanky atmosphere with just a touch of neo-funk. The menu carried tapas, and there were over one hundred cocktails. Girls loved it—the drinks were fruity and bubbly. Guys loved it—the girls were bubbly and sweet.

  The hostess placed us in one of the upper level booths so Holly and I had a view of the dance floor. The main bar glowed pink. Bottles of champagne dotted the back wall.

  “Cheers.” Holly raised her martini glass toward mine. “To happy house hunting. Or should I say, happy moving?”

  “Cheers.” Our glasses clinked.

  I sipped the lemony sweet drink and settled into the booth.

  “How did I manage to steal you away from Mike on a Friday night? You two have been almost inseparable lately,” I teased her.

  Holly and Mike had been on and off again for the last two years. I could tell she really liked him, but as usual, the magic always seemed to get in the way.

  “It’s guys’ night over at Charlie’s house. Mike’s team made the playoffs. Football is all he talks about lately.”

  “He is a coach.” I took another sip. “I think that comes with the territory.”

  “True, but for the high school. Their season ended in November. I was hoping once that was over we could get our weekends back. I didn’t know being the football coach at Sullen’s Grove High School would be so serious.” Holly gulped the rest of her cosmo. “I can’t remember the last time he took me on a non-sports-related date.”

  I wish she would accept the fact that a human boyfriend meant human activity.

  “Have you heard from anyone lately?” she asked carefully.

  “Anyone? You mean Finn?”

  She nodded her head and flagged down our waitress for another round of drinks.

  “No. Nothing since the last three times you asked. It’s been almost nine months. I don’t think he’s coming back this time.” I hadn
’t actually said those words out loud before. I didn’t like the nervous feeling it shot through my stomach.

  “He’ll come back.”

  My breath caught in my chest. I didn’t have any reason to think that. “He’s gone. I can’t count on him to come home, if he even can come back. I know you have a soft spot for him because of your father’s Shadow Quest, but I can’t sit around and wait for him to finish some never-ending quest.”

  I looked at my ring and tapped the blue stone on my right hand. The one time I was separated from it was when Finn took it, trying to find answers to his quest. “I hope he does finish it. I want him to be happy and to be free to live some kind of normal life, but he’s not here now. I can’t put my life on hold for someone else’s quest.”

  My cousin gave me a sympathetic smile. “I know. I know. I don’t want you to stop living your life because of him either.” She paused. “But don’t you think you could find a way to help him and bring him back sooner?”

  “You should know better than me, I don’t think that’s how it works.”

  She stirred a lemon twist in the fresh cosmo. “I’m not sure if there are rules. My dad never said much. It’s not something he could talk about.”

  “I don’t know how your mom dealt with that. I couldn’t.” I realized my aunt’s situation was completely different. She was already married and had Holly when my uncle accepted his quest. At least I knew Finn’s attention was somewhere else before we ever got that serious. “Let’s talk about how I’m going to get out of this western and Jack’s travel plans.”

  “Right. Yeah, that’s kind of a problem. A western could be fun, couldn’t it? A saloon, maybe some hot cowboys?”

  I spit out my drink. “You’re not really buying this marketing strategy are you?”

  “No, but it could work. You can write about anything.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Now you sound like Jack.”