A Little Green Magic (The Little Coven Series Book 1)

  A Little Green Magic

  Isabel Wroth

  Copyright © 2020 Isabel Wroth

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Cover design by: Maria Spada

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  More Books by Isabel wroth

  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

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Author's note

  More Books by Isabel wroth

  The Sarazen Saga

  Sarazen’s Claim

  Sarazen’s Vengeance

  Sarazen’s Betrayal

  Sarazen’s Hunt

  Sarazen’s Fury

  Sarazen’s Pride: Work in Progress

  The Etheric Travelers Series

  Awakening

  Perdition MC

  Never Ever

  Athena’s Raid

  Ripley’s Saint

  Dillon’s Universe- Work in Progress

  The Golden Bulls of Minos

  Queen’s Ransom

  The Valos Of Sonhadra

  Shadowed

  Portrait of Death

  Unforgotten

  Uncovered

  The Little Coven Series

  A Little Green Magic

  A Little Dark Magic: Coming October

  CHAPTER ONE

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, Ivy knew she was in shock. She couldn't concentrate on anything beyond putting one foot in front of the other, following the same path to her bed that she'd taken for the last twenty-three years simply out of habit.

  Pulling open the door to her dorm room proved to be a monumental task. It took both of her trembling hands to make it happen. She didn’t even noticed she wasn't alone until someone waved a foul-smelling potion under her nose.

  It made her eyes burn and her lungs constrict with enough force to snap her out of the buzzing numbness. She was surrounded by the worried faces of her friends.

  “Ivy, honey, can you hear me?” Rowena Little was holding Ivy's hands, her long auburn hair twisted up into a sensible bun. The big round glasses perched on her nose should have made her look like a crone, but they suited Rowena's heart-shaped face and perfectly framed her big Bambi eyes.

  “Headmistress Le Douche called her into the office,” Kerrigan Gray informed them all, dressed head to toe in her usual black-on-black wardrobe. A stereotypical Gothic witch—pale skin, smoky eyeshadow, pale violet eyes, her long wavy hair graduating from blackest night to palest gray.

  “One of these days, you're going to slip up and call her that instead of Headmistress Le Doux,” Juliet Van Horn warned, her chin-length bob a shockingly bright lime green, still wet from washing out her latest color-changing potion. The wild color made her aquamarine eyes pop.

  “Today was probably the worst day to be called to the office. I blew up another alchemy potion this morning, and the whole lab smells like cat piss and dead pharaoh,” Callie Proctor confessed with a wince, tucking away the little vial of whatever horrible thing she'd waved under Ivy's nose back into one of the many loops sewn into her leather alchemy satchel.

  Callie must have been wearing her goggles during her experiment because the only part of her face not covered in soot were two large circles around her mahogany brown eyes. When everyone looked at her, she shrugged and wrinkled her nose. “Too much scarab.”

  “You never follow the recipe.” Astrid De la Rosa sighed in exasperation. Astrid sat down next to Ivy and curved her arm around Ivy's shoulders. “Take your time. Tell us what happened.”

  Ivy tried to form words, but she only managed to open and close her mouth like a fish due to the worry and concern on her friend's faces.

  The six of them had been assigned to the same dormitory at Haggara Conservatory for Witches. None of them shared the same discipline or shared any classes over the years, but they'd bonded together and become the best of friends almost immediately.

  Rowena practiced practical magic. Kerrigan favored the darker arts and communed with the dead. Juliet's magic was as wild and chaotic as her hair. Callie wanted to be an alchemist, a creator of pure magic, but her experiments often blew up in her face, literally. Astrid practiced cosmic magic, working with the stars and studying the universal ebb and flow.

  They'd been friends for twenty-three years. As Ivy replayed the humiliating moments spent in the Headmistress's office, reality set in.

  As of tomorrow, Ivy would be on her own.

  “Miss Greene, I don't see any reason for you to continue further study,” Headmistress Le Doux had informed her bluntly, folding her bony fingers together, staring at Ivy from across her silver and glass desk with eyes as black as pitch. “You were accepted as a student despite the circumstances of your birth because your mother was an astoundingly powerful witch.

  “I had high hopes that you too would prove as equally powerful, but unfortunately, in the twenty-three years you've been with us, you've shown about as much aptitude for magic as a human.

  “The hard truth is your mother was never supposed to have a child, but she wanted you so badly she used every ounce of her power to change her fate, leaving only the smallest amount of magic to be passed on to you.

  “You do seem to have a green thumb, but the ability to keep plants alive and flourishing isn't enough. Without the ability to cast spells of even the most basic kind, you will not be asked to join a coven, and undergoing the Pairing Ritual is a waste of time.

  “I've done the best I can to compile a list of employment opportunities for you, Ivy, but the rest is up to you. It's time to venture out and find your place in the world.”

  After finding the power to string words together and explain, there was a moment of shocked silence from the women around her.

  Julie was the first to break it with a wild shriek. “That is absolute bullshit!”

  “She can't just kick you out!” Kerrigan shouted defiantly. “Where the hell does Le Douche expect you to go?”

  The bed bounced as Callie plopped down on Ivy's other side and added her arms to Astrid's hug. “You're just a late bloomer! That's all. There isn't a single witch here who tries harder than you.”

  “I can't believe this!” Juliet went on, the air around her crackling with sparks as her wild magic manifested in response to her fury.

  Astrid slipped away and hurried to get her tarot deck, muttering under her breath, “This can't be right. The stars are aligned for change, not catastrophe.”

  The other girls continued to rail against Le Doux, but Rowena stayed quiet, deep in thought as she held Ivy's hands. “I think it's time for me to leave, too.”

  Rowena's calm declaration sent Juliet into the stratosphere. “WHAT?”

  “I did the Pairing Ritual, but my partner is completely unacceptable. I refused his proposal, and I've been thinking about what to do next,” Rowena said, giving Ivy's hands a gentle squeeze.

  “You refused your pairing match?” Kerrigan gasped, her eyes so wide the black slashes of her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. “Can you do that?”

  “I'm the matron of my bloodline; I can do what I want.” Rowena's chin went up at a defiant, determined angle as she tugged on Ivy's hands to get her on her feet. “I refused to be William Whitley-Haversham's bitch, and I refuse to let you get thrown out on your ass, Ivy. I'm starting my own coven. You in?”

  Speechless, all Ivy could do was nod. Rowena's hug was fierce, and hope blossomed like a flower inside Ivy's chest.

  “Screw Le Douche!” Kerrigan declared furiously, wrapping herself around Rowena and Ivy. “If you're both leaving, I'm leaving. Let's do this.”

  “My parents are going to be so pissed,” Juliet murmured with reverent glee, stepping in to join the hug. Her magic felt like the snap of Pop Rocks against Ivy's skin, but Ivy didn't shy away. “I'm in.”

  “Me too!” Callie whooped, making their little knot stumble as she joyfully threw herself at Ivy's back.

  Astrid's sigh was one of intense relief, and with a slight turn of her head, Ivy could see the cosmic witch with her hands folded over her heart as she stared at the cards spread out across Ivy's bed.

  “Change, yes. Thank the Goddess.” Astrid was the last one to join their group hug, mystery and satisfaction in her voice. “We're just a little coven, but this is most definitely the change I saw coming toward us.”

  Callie chortled gleefully. “A little coven.”

  “HA
!” Juliet guffawed, and the six of them burst into giggles.

  “So, Matron Little, what the hell do we do now?” Kerrigan wanted to know.

  Rowena gave Ivy a squeeze, “How do you guys feel about New Hampshire?”

  “What's in New Hampshire?” Callie asked.

  “Oh, just a few hundred acres of land for us to build our dreams on,” Rowena answered airily.

  Surrounded by her friends, her little coven, Ivy sighed. “Sounds good to me.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Three years later....

  Inhale the good shit. Exhale the bullshit.

  Ivy repeated the mantra over and over in her head while her beloved boss’s horrible older brother stood in front of her, berating her in front of customers at the top of his lungs for the second time this week.

  Ivy loved working at the Mom and Pop Garden Shop. She loved her boss, Mr. Henry Vonn. She loved being able to use her piddly amount of magic to ensure all the plants in the garden center were the lushest, vibrant, healthy plants in the state.

  She loved chatting with customers about their hopes and dreams for their vegetable gardens and seeing pictures later of spectacular plots when those same customers came back for more.

  She did not love Charles Vonn. Charles was a colostomy bag. A creep. A complete asshole of the highest order.

  Henry was at home, recovering from back surgery, so Charles had stepped up to take over running the family business. Unfortunately, Charles knew absolutely fuck all about the business, or how to do anything other than berate his brother's employees for failing to meet Charles's unrealistic expectations.

  Last week, Charles stomped out to rip Ivy a new asshole for ordering, what he felt, was an astronomical amount of dirt. To him, six hundred bags of compost-enriched topsoil was ludicrous. He thought the eighty bags they had left was plenty to get them through the rest of the month and informed her he'd canceled the order.

  The very next day, one of the shop's regular landscaping clients came in and bought all eighty bags, and now there were zero bags in stock. Charles claimed she should have ordered more. Clearly, the lack of product was Ivy's fault.

  Then Charles noticed Ivy spent too much of her time chatting with customers and not selling products, not understanding that sometimes folks wanted to talk about their projects and get advice. He'd raked her over the coals for not doing her job.

  The two younger girls who came in to water the plants and help restock shelves had already quit—one of them in tears after Charles got through with her. Their one cashier took off yesterday after throwing her matcha chai latte in Charles’s face. With the lack of manpower, Ivy had to pick up the slack.

  Her eight-hour days had turned into nearly sixteen-hour days, and today, Charles was pissed because it was time to do payroll, and he had to sign off on overtime.

  She came in at five in the morning to get the plants all watered before the shop opened at eight, or else it wouldn't get done. She stocked the shelves in between helping customers decide which type of plants or dirt to buy, ring up their purchases, and help them load everything into their car if they needed it. It was springtime, and the shop was so busy Ivy hadn't had time to take a lunch break or go to the bathroom.

  If Henry had been here, he'd be outside with his sleeves rolled up, helping her load the fifty-pound bags of dirt or ringing people up to keep things moving.

  Charles couldn't be bothered to get off his ass and do anything except shout at her. In the two weeks since he'd been here, Charles was getting dangerously close to running his brother's business into the ground.

  The only reason Ivy hadn't called Henry to let him know was because she knew—spinal surgery or no—he'd be out here working to fix everything.

  Today, Charles berated her for not getting to the enormous stack of boxes, which needed to be unpacked and put out on the shelves last night, and for taking advantage of his brother by working overtime and taking personal phone calls during business hours.

  She loved the garden shop, but she was seriously considering taking Kerrigan up on her offer to put a curse on Charles. Rowena wanted Ivy to quit the garden shop altogether and start her own nursery or landscaping business on the coven's land.

  Kerrigan and Astrid already had their businesses up and running in the little strip center at the front half of the estate, Rowena's online business and practical magic supplies were in such high demand, Juliet and Callie were working full time to fulfill orders and assisting with house calls.

  Those phone calls Ivy had taken that had Charles in such a lather? From Rowena, asking if Ivy had time to mail some packages and pick up more shipping supplies.

  Despite the Haggara Council's displeasure with them and dire warnings that none of them would make it out on their own, the Little Coven was thriving beyond their wildest expectations. Ivy still couldn't perform even the most basic of spells, but she had a purpose, she had her friends, and she had this job. She was contributing.

  Today, as some of the shop's most loyal customers stood on and listened to Charles insult her, Ivy didn't feel anything other than pissed off and exhausted.

  “How hard is it to unpack boxes and put shit where it goes? Maybe, instead of taking phone calls from whatever boy-toy you're stringing along, you might put your tits away to do your damn job!” Charles jabbed a thick, fleshy finger at her, his jowls shaking, spittle forming at the corners of his thick lips.

  He reminded her of a troll, soft and fat, with stringy hair he tried to comb over the top of his nearly bald head, his beady little eyes almost disappearing as he viciously scowled at her. “I don't know what kind of place you think this is, but you continue to dress like you're working in a whore house, and I won't have it!”

  Someone gasped, and as Ivy ran her tongue over her teeth, Ivy glanced down at herself to gauge the level of her so-called inappropriate workplace attire.

  Before she'd passed on, Henry's sweet wife, Barbara, designed a new logo for the garden shop and spent a good amount of money to have it printed on a variety of tank tops and T-shirts.

  Ivy liked the tank tops best, as they paired well with jeans and cut-offs. Today, she had on her favorite green tank and her most comfortable pair of cut-off shorts, along with a sturdy pair of hiking boots. Nothing was hanging out where it shouldn't, and in her mind, Ivy could hear Juliet's voice.

  “Girl, sometimes you just gotta lose your shit to convince those assholes you will, indeed, cut a bitch.”

  Ivy took a breath to ensure the people watching her would later be able to say she'd handled herself with dignity and poise, but a deep, masculine voice rumbled from behind her.

  “What the fuck is going on here?”

  In that moment, Ivy wished with all her might that she had the power to open a huge hole in the ground to sink down into and die. She didn't have to turn around to know who was behind her. That voice… that harsh, snarling growl...

  Without looking, Ivy knew Uriah Tremarc's mop of thick brown hair would be wild and windblown. He'd have scruff on his face, maybe a few flecks of sawdust sprinkled over the shirt stretched tight across his steely pectorals.

  It would be a black shirt or a dark gray one. He'd have on jeans that fit him like they were tailor-made to hug every impressive bulge of muscle, and his enormous hands would be set on his hips, drawing her attention to his sexy forearms and the pythons he had the audacity to call biceps.

  He'd squash Charles with both hands tied behind his back, and she was awfully tempted to let him, but this was her fight, and she was ready to end it.

  “I'll be with you in just a moment, Uriah,” Ivy murmured politely, lifting her chin to catch Charles’s wide eyes. “Mr. Vonn, as of this moment, you have one employee doing the work of six, which means my wardrobe choices should be the least of your concerns.

  “I'm exhausted, I'm surviving on granola bars I can scarf down between helping customers, and I haven't had time to pee in three days, let alone slack off my job. But if you find my presence so offensive, I will be happy to walk out that door right now and let you take over to run the entire shop all by yourself.”

  Not used to having anyone talk back to him, Charles spluttered for a snappy comeback, but all he managed was, “You wouldn't dare.”