Witch Trials

"Where's Dorcas?" asked Tabor.

"Shhh." Grace put a finger to her lips. "Don't invoke her name."

"Why are we hiding in the closet?"

"Because she probably won't look for us in here."

"But shouldn't we—"

"No."

"Okay. Isn't there—"

"There's not."

"Still. I think—"

"If you don't shut up, love of my life," whispered Grace, "I will bespell your underwear with itching powder."

"Oh? Then you should find a way to shut my mouth." He leaned closer. "How about with yours?"

"Gross!" yelled a cranky female voice.

"Dorcas!" cried Tabor and Grace together.

"I've been here the whole time, you two knobheads." She crossed her arms. "So? What are you going to do about those people?"

"What people?" asked Grace.

"The ones who want to read your story."

"Um ... let them read it?"

"Fine," muttered Dorcas. "But don't say I didn't warn you. Knobheads."

ZOMBUNNIES ON THE ATTACK
Bear shifter Tabor Cotton has a sacred duty: protect the Franklinia Magica, the last living magic tree in North America. But Frank is dying, and the magic imbued within its roots is fading fast.

Of course, Tabor never expected Frank’s call for help to arrive in the form of zombunnies attacking him and his cabin home in the woods.

CURSED, HAUNTED, AND FREAKING TIRED
Herbology witch Grace Hobbs is cursed to endure the spiteful, sanity-draining nagging of her ancestor’s nemesis, Dorcas Hoar. Even so, Grace has managed to carve out an itsy-bitsy bit of peace in Broken Heart, Oklahoma.

Until a gorgeous bear shifter with an urgent plant magic problem appears on her doorstep.

SAVE THE MAGIC AND EACH OTHER
Tabor needs the undead hares to go away, and Grace wants to end her ghost-haunting curse. The solution to both problems is the same: Save Frank.

All Grace and Tabor have to do is fight zombie rabbits, survive a foul-mouthed ghost and a vengeful fairy, and ... oh yeah, prevent an ancient evil from taking root and destroying all magic. No problem ... right?

What do you want to do next?

Read an Excerpt

GRACE HOBBS

“Get inside,” yelled Pops as the little white and scabby things tumbled around both corners of the cabin and scrambled toward them.

The stench wafting from the creatures nearly curled Grace’s nose hairs.

“Hurry!” shouted Tabor. He opened the front door and everyone piled inside.

Unfortunately, some of the creatures hopped in right behind them. Tabor managed to shut the door before more of the hellions could crawl into the cabin.

Pops squawked and ran into the kitchen.

“What’s happening?” asked Grace. Liz clung so hard to her shoulders the familiar’s little claws embedded into her skin.

“We have a zombie rabbit issue,” said Zerina, kicking away decrepit rabbits like she was auditioning for the Rockettes. “We think it’s because of the magical tree.”

Holy shitballs! We have a breach! We have a breach! Dorcas pointed at a rogue bunny doing a one-legged hop toward Grace.

Tabor had procured a baseball bat and bashed the roadkill before it got within ankle-biting distance. Patsy was smacking others away with her tongs, using obscenities Grace hadn’t ever heard before. Dorcas was zipping back and forth in sheer panic trying to point out the obvious.

“I thought you could control zombies, Patsy,” said Zerina.

“Not these little fuckers. I’ve already tried ten ways to Sunday to command them. They ain’t listening.” Patsy glared at Zerina. “Why aren’t you using your mighty fairy magic to do something about this shit?”

“Because my fairy magic doesn’t work on zombies,” said Zerina. “Duh.” She swung around to glare at Grace. “What about you? Can’t you whip up a spell or something?”

“I can try,” said Grace. Her magic was attached to nature and to healing what was alive and these rabbits were animated, but obviously deceased. Still, she had to give it a shot. She inhaled deeply, gathered her magic, and released it toward the hopping dead as she shouted, “Ad mortem!”

Nothing happened. The bunnies ignored the spell as easily as Dorcas ignored Grace’s bathroom privacy.

“How do we get rid of this army of evil furriness?” asked Pops as he returned to the living room holding a frying pan. He jumped onto the couch and waved it. His eyes were wide as saucers as he surveyed the madness around them.

“All we got left is the Bunny Fu Fu method!” shouted Patsy.

Grace reached for the nearest thing she could find—Shifter Cosmopolitan. She rolled it up and batted at the undead bunnies trying to attack her feet. Liz scurried off Grace’s shoulders and hid under the couch.

A nanosecond later, Liz scrambled out, followed by a teeth-gnashing bunny with one dangling eye. Grace whacked the bunny with a crisp whomp. The bunny was unamused. Then Liz scurried away to parts unknown.

“Not the Cosmo,” complained Pops. “I haven’t taken the Are You A Sexy Beast? quiz yet.”

“Priorities, old man,” said Zerina. “Also, no. You are not a sexy beast. What’s wrong with you?”

“These little fuckers are fast,” said Patsy. “Don’t they know they’re dead? Where’s all the shambling, and the shuffling, and falling off of decomposing parts to slow them down?” A rotted rabbit growled at her, flashing fangs. She hissed and bashed its head with the tongs then she kicked it across the room. It left a greenish red smear along the hard wood floors. “Yuck! Now I have rabbit guts on my feet.”

“That’s it,” declared Pops. “We’re going to have to burn the whole house down.”

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