Contents

  Copyright

  About Author

  Also By Nicola Claire

  My Patrons

  Definitions

  Description

  Foreword

  Episode One

  1. Keep Off The Grass!

  2. Serious Supplies (Of The Magical Variety, Of Course)

  3. Son Of A Witch's Cauldron

  4. What The Ever-Loving Heck Was Going On Here?

  5. Reveal Yourself To Me

  6. Not A Witch

  Episode Two

  7. Can You Deal With That?

  8. I Was In A Cauldron-Load Of Trouble

  9. I Wasn't Sure I Could Take Much More

  10. This Was Bad

  11. Not Witch

  12. All Those Before It Should Quail And Quake

  Episode Three

  13. For Good Or Nefarious Reasons

  14. A Hunt Incomplete

  15. Are You Ready?

  16. You're A Buzzy Bee

  17. It's Just The Auras

  18. E Hoa

  Episode Four

  19. Are You Done Yet?

  20. It Took Longer Than It Should Have

  21. I Wished Him Luck With That

  22. What Have You Done?

  23. You'd Have To Catch Me First

  24. I Intend To Remedy That Failure

  Afterword

  Review Request

  But Wait, There's More...

  Nicola's Bestselling Debút Novel...

  Thousands Of Five-Star Reviews...

  High Octane Action In Outer Space

  “Dystopian At Its Finest!”

  He’s The Heir To The Fire Throne. She’s The Human He Didn’t See Coming!

  And Finally…The Hugely Popular Historical Romance Everyone Is Talking About!

  Copyright © 2022, Nicola Claire

  STR Limited, New Zealand

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organisations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  www.nicolaclairebooks.com

  ISBN: 978-0-473-63328-8

  About Author

  Nicola Claire lives in beautiful Taupo, New Zealand with her husband, two teenage boys and a miniature schnauzer named Rudy.

  A bit of a romance junkie, she can be known to devour as many as half a dozen books a week if she drinks too much coffee. But her real passion is writing sexy, romantic suspense stories with strong female leads and alpha male protagonists who know how to love them.

  So far, she’s written well over 60 books. She might have caught the writing bug; here’s hoping there’s no cure!

  For more information:

  www.nicolaclairebooks.com

  nicola@nicolaclairebooks.com

  Also By Nicola Claire

  Kindred Series

  Part I

  Kindred

  Blood Life Seeker

  Forbidden Drink

  Giver of Light

  Dancing Dragon

  Shadow’s Light

  Entwined With The Dark

  Kiss Of The Dragon

  Dreaming Of A Blood Red Christmas (Novella)

  Never Show Fear (Anthology)

  Part II

  Darklight

  Coldfire

  Evernight (Coming Soon)

  Mixed Blessing Mystery Series

  Mixed Blessing

  Dark Shadow

  Rogue Vampire

  Black Dog

  Blood Enchanted Series

  Blood Enchanted

  Blood Entwined

  Blood Enthralled

  Fey Touched Series

  Season One

  Season Two

  Season Three

  Season Four (Coming Soon)

  Wicked Witch Series

  You Say Witch Like It’s A Bad Thing

  Don’t Make Me Flip My Witch Switch (Coming Soon)

  The Summer O’Dare Mysteries Series

  Chasing Summer

  Sizzling Summer

  Loving Summer (Coming Soon)

  Sweet Seduction Series

  Sweet Seduction Sacrifice

  Sweet Seduction Serenade

  Sweet Seduction Shadow

  Sweet Seduction Surrender

  Sweet Seduction Shield

  Sweet Seduction Sabotage

  Sweet Seduction Stripped

  Sweet Seduction Secrets

  Sweet Seduction Sayonara

  H.E.A.T. Series

  A Flare Of Heat

  A Touch Of Heat

  A Twist Of Heat (Novella)

  A Lick Of Heat

  44 South Series

  Southern Sunset

  Southern Storm

  Elemental Awakening Series

  The Tempting Touch Of Fire

  The Soothing Scent Of Earth

  The Chilling Change Of Air

  The Tantalising Taste Of Water

  The Eternal Edge Of Aether (Novella)

  Scarlet Suffragette Series

  Fearless

  Breathless

  Heartless

  Citizen Saga Series

  Elite

  Cardinal

  Citizen

  Masked (Novella)

  Wiped

  Lost Time Series

  Losing Time

  Making Time

  Finding Time (Coming Soon)

  The Sector Fleet Series

  Accelerating Universe

  Apparent Brightness

  Right Ascension

  Zenith Point

  The Sector Wars Series

  Absolute Zero

  Cepheid Variable

  Roche Limit

  The Sector Files Series

  Angular Momentum

  Chromatic Aberration

  Elementary Particles (Coming Soon)

  Standalone Books

  In Sheets Of Rain

  My Patrons

  A sincere thank you to my tier four Patreon supporters whose patronage means the world to me and inspires me to write great things.

  KARINA TREVIÑO

  The publication of this book was made possible with the help of all my Patrons.

  patreon.com/nicolaclaire

  Definitions

  Accord – A blood binding agreement, often between two parties of equal power; cannot be broken.

  Aroha – (Maori) Love; A term of endearment.

  Glaze – The vampire ability to influence another. It requires direct eye contact and Sanguis Vitam to insert the influence. Usually a Nosferatu skill, allowing a vampire to influence a human.

  Hapū – (Maori) Tribe; sub-tribe – e.g. the Westside Hapū of Taniwha is the local Auckland sub-tribe of New Zealand Taniwha.

  Hoa - (Maori) Mate; a bonded mate is the perfect companion to a shapeshifter, one that challenges, offers solace, soothes, matches passions and instils the desire to protect.

  Ignis - (Latin) Fire; power word; white magic. Lights the subject on fire. An offensive incantation.

  Iunctio – (Latin). The Nosferatu governing POWER. There are twelve members of the Iunctio council, headed by the Champion. The Iunctio is tasked with policing all supernaturals throughout the world.

  Kindred – A Nosferatu or Nosferatin sacred match, a suitable partner for a joining. To be a kindred there must exist a connection between the Nosferatu and Nosferatin; only those suitably compatible will be kindred to the other.

  Ligare - (Latin) Bind; spell; white magic. Light is channelled as if it were rope to hold something still so the witch can escape.

  Master – A Nosferatu with the highest level of Sanguis Vitam. There are five levels of Master, from level five – the lowest on the Sanguis Vitam scale, to level one – the highest on the Sanguis Vitam scale. Only level one Masters can head a line of their own. Some Nosferatu may never become Masters.

  Master of the City – A level one Master in control of a territory; a city.

  Norm – A human unaware of the supernaturals who walk the Earth. They also do not have any supernatural abilities themselves.

  Nosferatin – (Nosferat–een) - A vampire hunter by birth. Nosferatin were once of the same ilk as Nosferatu, descendants from the same ancestors, or God. The Nosferatin broke off and turned towards the Light. Their sole purpose is to bring the Nosferatu back from the Dark. This can include dispatching them, bringing them the final death, when they cannot be saved.

  Nosferatu – A vampire. The Nosferatu turned towards the Dark, when their kin, the Nosferatin turned towards the Light. They require blood to survive and can be harmed by UV exposure and silver. They do not need to breathe or have a heart beat. They are considered the undead.

  Nuntiare tibi - (Latin) Announce yourself; spell; white magic. An invisible magical bell on a collar around the subject’s neck much like a cat’s, announces their presence to the witch when near.

  Rogue – A vampire no longer controlled by a master, full of evil and Darkness, feeding indiscriminately and uncontrolled.

  Sanguis Vitam – (Latin) The Blood Life or life force of a Nosferatu. It repr
esents the power they possess. There are varying degrees of Sanguis Vitam.

  Taniwha – (Maori) New Zealand Shape Shifter. Dangerous, predatory beings. The Taniwha have an alliance with the Nosferatins.

  Vampyre – Old term for vampire; used rarely in modern language.

  Ventus - (Latin) Wind; power word; white magic. Channels powerful wind toward subject. An offensive incantation.

  Verum solum - (Latin) Truth; spell; white magic. Forces the subject to answer truthfully.

  Description

  Come for the boo, stay for the brew, that’s my motto. But although I’m getting a heck of a lot of boo, right now, I’m not getting my fair share of brew.

  I draw the line at drinking alone, my friends. And I am currently a witch very much alone.

  The Witches’ Council won’t answer my calls. That would be fine at any other time, but right now, I need some direction.

  My coven is missing. All that’s left in the crypt is a dust-free rectangle where our grimoire used to be. And someone must have let the dog in because the sanctuary smells like wet fur.

  But that’s not all. This dude keeps following me around. He’s big and muscly, got tattoos all over his tanned arms, and has the most delicious chocolate brown eyes I’ve ever seen.

  Would it be wrong to accidentally-on-purpose let him bump into me? It sure as heck would be better than trying to solve this unsolvable mystery.

  Besides, haven’t I already said? I don’t like drinking alone. Tall, Dark and Brooding might make a good booze buddy.

  Among other things, of course.

  Meet Iris Wardwell and her witchy sidekicks in a new magical series set in the Kindred World. She’ll put a spell on you, for sure. Or just invite you to share a drink or two. You’ve heard of witch hags? Well, this one’s a booze hag.

  A booze hag having a very bad day and she’s just run out of liquor.

  Foreword

  This book was released first on Patreon in episodic format.

  YOU SAY WITCH LIKE IT’S A BAD THING is Season One of the Wicked Witch series; a spin-off to Kindred.

  Episode One

  Chapter one

  Keep Off The Grass!

  Iris

  It was either the six appletinis or that last shot of tequila that had me passing out in the grotto. I could taste a faint hint of lemon on my tongue and when I licked my lips, I was sure it was salt I dislodged and not dried drool or something more embarrassing.

  “Some night, huh?” I mumbled, but no one answered.

  I was pretty sure when that last tequila toast had been offered up to the goddess, I had not been alone.

  I rolled over onto my stomach and blinked blearily at a silver fern three inches from my face. The grotto’s ward sparked against my senses, making little lights wink at me from behind my immediately tightly closed eyelids.

  What the heck had Jeremiah put in that last shot anyway?

  Something battered at my nose. I startled, my eyelids flying open; a spell on my lips, ready to fry whatever mutant spider had decided to pay me a visit.

  “Oh, it’s you,” I said, swallowing the spell and making my insides feel all kinds of itchy. “Go away.”

  The mangy stray cat, with black and white fur sticking up all over the place, started to lick its nether region. Right in my face.

  “Ugh,” I managed, putting as much space between me and it as I could. “How did you get in here? It’s warded.”

  The cat ignored me. Two could play at that game.

  I rubbed my face and knuckled my eyeballs until they resembled something close to vision capable. When I glanced around the grotto, I still didn’t see anyone else. It must have been one heck of a night and the guys decided I’d be better sleeping it off behind the grotto’s wards.

  Or they knew something I didn’t. Namely, Henrietta, our coven leader, had plans to use the grotto for spell casting this morning. Panic had me lurching to my feet, which in turn made the world go a little haywire on me.

  With arms outstretched, I teetered around on wobbly legs as the blood redistributed throughout my body. Quietly — oh, so very quietly — I whispered a spell under my breath, one I was surprisingly good at, to ward off the effects of a hangover.

  Actually, it wasn’t that surprising that it was my best spell. I’d had a lot of practice using it, after all.

  Feeling marginally better, I surveyed the grotto for any evidence of our passing; thankful the guys had cleaned up our Graduating Witch University Celebration mess and walked determinedly toward one of the obscured exits. If luck was on my side, I’d make it out before Henrietta and the Hit Squad, as I liked to call the upper echelon of the Auckland City Coven, waltzed on in to find my trespassing butt.

  Not that the grotto was off-limits to any witch in the coven, but it was considered sacred ground, warded up the wazoo, and the only place to perform certain types of magic.

  Under the moss-like grass, that covered the ground in all directions, was a pentagram etched into the bedrock. It amplified the multiple wards that protected the spell caster. It also helped as a conduit to the magic that inherently ran through our realm, allowing the caster to draw on magic outside of their body for particularly difficult spells.

  The gnarled old trees surrounding the grotto, standing at the edge of the pentagram at points chosen with precision, were covered with hundreds of hag stones. The naturally occurring holes in the rocks allowed for twine to be threaded through them, turning them into witchy tree decorations.

  I wore a hag stone around my neck; one my mother and father had given me. My sister, Melba, wore a matching one to mine. It’s hard to find matching hag stones, being naturally occurring and all. But somehow our parents had done just that and made sure we wore them.

  I don’t think I’d ever taken mine off.

  The ward tickled as I crossed it, but as I was a Wardwell, a member of one of the founding families of our coven, it was merely pleasant rather than irritating, which some of my mates said it felt like for them. Jeremiah likened passing through the grotto’s wards as shoving his finger in an electrical socket. But Jerry was a Toothaker. An old family, but not a founder.

  I exited the grotto into bright sunlight. It was always cool and a little murky in the grotto, truthfully. I liked it, but I could see how a Norm — that’s a human with no magical or paranormal ability — would find it a little creepy. They wouldn’t be able to feel the magic like we can, but the whole area gives off a misty, shadowy, dark forest kind of vibe and somehow activates that atavistic part of their hind-brain or something.

  It doesn’t help that the grotto is located right in the middle of the Symonds Street Cemetery, either. Spooky is our motto, after all.

  Well, that and ‘Come for the boo, stay for the brew’. For me, in any case. Not so sure about the Hit Squad.

  No one jumped out and zapped me. So, things were looking up. Actually, no one was traipsing through the cemetery at all. There was usually some witch or homeless person slinking through the woods that adorned Grafton Gully. I could hear traffic crossing the Grafton Bridge above me; the usual hum of Auckland City on a midweek morning. The city, heck the world, might have still been recovering from the vampire-norm war a decade ago, but you still had to get in your car and drive to work via the local Starbucks for your Venti Low Fat Caramel Macchiato No Whip.