STARLIGHT WITCH

  STARLIGHT HOLLOW

  BOOK 4

  YASMINE GALENORN

  A Nightqueen Enterprises LLC Publication

  Published by Yasmine Galenorn

  PO Box 2037, Kirkland WA 98083-2037

  STARLIGHT WITCH

  A Starlight Hollow Novel

  Copyright © 2024 by Yasmine Galenorn

  First Electronic Printing: 2024 Nightqueen Enterprises LLC

  First Print Edition: 2024 Nightqueen Enterprises

  Cover Art & Design: Ravven

  Art Copyright: Yasmine Galenorn

  Editor: Elizabeth Flynn

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any format, be it print or electronic or audio, without permission. Please prevent piracy by purchasing only authorized versions of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, or places is entirely coincidental and not to be construed as representative or an endorsement of any living/ existing group, person, place, or business.

  A Nightqueen Enterprises LLC Publication

  Published in the United States of America

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgments

  Welcome to Starlight Witch

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Playlist

  Biography

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Welcome to Starlight Witch, book four of the Starlight Hollow Series. I’m eager to continue with Elphyra’s adventures and in this book, she has a lot of choices to make…choices she doesn’t want to make. But sometimes, life throws us curve balls.

  Thanks to my usual crew: Samwise, my husband, Andria and Jennifer—without their help, I’d be floundering. To the wonderful women authors who have helped me find my way in indie, you’re all great, and thank you to everyone. To my wonderful cover artist, Ravven, for the beautiful work she’s done and to Elizabeth Flynn, my editor.

  Also, my love to my furbles, who keep me happy. My most reverent devotion to Mielikki, Tapio, Ukko, Rauni, and Brighid, my spiritual guardians and guides. My love and reverence to Herne, and Cernunnos, and to the Fae, who still rule the wild places of this world. And a nod to the Wild Hunt, which runs deep in my magick, as well as in my fiction.

  You can find me through my website at Galenorn.com and be sure to sign up for my newsletter to keep updated on all my latest releases! You can find my advice on writing, discussions about the books, and general ramblings on my YouTube channel. You can also support me on Patreon, if you like! If you loved this book, I’d be grateful if you’d leave a review—it helps more than you can think.

  Brightest Blessings,

  ~The Painted Panther~

  ~Yasmine Galenorn

  WELCOME TO STARLIGHT WITCH

  Book 4 of the Starlight Hollow Series

  Thanksgiving is coming up and Grams and I are headed to my mother's house for the day. So, when my aunt finds an old journal written by my father, I begin to doubt the claim that he committed suicide, I decide to do some snooping. But is it too late to discover whether he took his own life, or murdered? Compounding my worries, Faron is on the mend, but he doesn't remember our relationship. With Bran and me growing closer, I'm not sure just what I'm going to discover about the past, or what's going to happen in my future.

  CHAPTER ONE

  I woke early, unable to stay in bed. Today was the day the doctors were releasing Faron from the hospital and I’d get to see him. While he had woken up several weeks ago, they had kept him under observation until the inflammation in his brain lessened. But he was healed up enough that they said he could go home, as long as he stayed with his brother Kyle for a while until they were certain he was ready to resume his normal life.

  I’d spent so many afternoons at the hospital, sitting with Faron, until Kyle asked me to back off. Apparently, my presence agitated him. Faron had forgotten what we had together and Kyle told me that the doctors didn’t want me to slip and say something that might create too much stress. So the past three weeks, we’d barely seen each other and it was hard not knowing where I stood in his life.

  I could hear Grams in the kitchen, making breakfast. I sat on the edge of my bed, trying to sort through my feelings. Over the past few weeks, Bran and I had grown a lot closer. When I told him Faron had woken up, he’d been silent for a while, but at least he’d been happy for the wolf shifter. But today…today Faron was leaving the hospital, and it would change all our lives.

  I was in love with both men, and both men were in love with me. At least, Bran was. Faron was a mystery, at this point. Adrift, I had no clue where we were headed or whether we’d pick up where we left off. Or whether he’d even remember we’d slept together before we’d both been attacked.

  Sighing, I sorted through my closet, trying to pull together an outfit. I wanted sexy, but it was storming out so I also wanted warm and cozy. I opted for a pair of black leather pants, a warm cobalt sweater with a deep V-neck, and a silver belt. I laced up my granny boots, did my makeup and, carrying my jacket over my shoulder, joined Grams for breakfast.

  Grams—my great-grandmother—handed me a plate of eggs, bacon, and whole-grain toast. She was on a health kick—for me. She was determined to build up my strength and endurance as she helped me discover more about my magical heritage. My mother had mostly taught me basic magic. My father—Grams’s grandson—had died when I was five, so I never had the opportunity to learn anything from him. In fact, I barely remembered him.

  My magic was entwined with the earth, with growing things, the forest and land. I was born into a line of witches who often turned into demon hunters as their years went on and their magic grew. My own magic felt like it was just starting to blossom.

  Grams had come over from Scotland to help me find that connection, and she had stayed. We understood each other, in a bond I hadn’t had with anybody else in my family. So, instead of staying in Port Townsend where my mother lived, Grams moved down to Starlight Hollow, a small town on Dabob Bay near Gig Harbor, where I had made my home. She was mentoring me now, as I healed from a bad case of PTSD.

  “Morning, Grams,” I said, kissing her on the cheek. “What are you up to for the day?”

  “House hunting. I can’t stay with you forever,” she said, laughing. “I noticed several cottages for sale, down near the waterline, so I think I’ll talk to Randy about them.”

  Randy Eikhorn was her real estate agent. He had found my house for me, and so Grams was working with him. They had seen several houses so far, but none had fully met her needs.

  “I hope you find something you like, but you know you can stay here as long as you want. I love having you around.” I settled at the table and dug into my food. Grams handed me a quad-shot latte, steaming with the scent of pumpkin spice, and I gratefully cupped the mug in my hands and sipped what I considered the elixir of life—caffeine in the black gold that was coffee.

  “I know, but we both need our own space. Are you heading to the hospital today?”

  I shook my head. “No, Kyle called me last night. He’s taking Faron home today, so I’ll go over there. Faron’s staying with him until the doctors give him permission to go back to his regular life.” I paused, then asked, “Grams? What do you do when you need to find out something, but it’s not the right time to ask?”

  Grams settled in opposite me with her breakfast. She sipped her tea out of a china cup. Most of her things were in storage until she found a new house, but she had insisted on unpacking her good china. It’s not tea unless you drink it out of a china cup, she had said.

  “Does your question regard a life-or-death situation?”

  I shook my head. “No. It’s important to me, but nobody’s life depends on the answer.”

  “Then you leave it alone, for now. I assume you’re referring to where you stand with Faron?”

  I let out a sigh. “Yeah, it is. It’s been a while since he woke up, and several weeks since I’ve seen him. I haven’t said a word to him about the fact that we slept together. That we were falling for one another. I have no idea how he feels.”

  “He’s healing from a traumatic brain injury. I love you, my dear, but as much as you want to know if he remembers you in that manner, now is not the time to pursue it. And now you have the complication that you’re involved with Bran.”

  “I know,” I said, toying with my eggs. “But…I love them both, Grams. The past few weeks have taught me that. I can’t choose. The heart wants what it wants.”

  “Maybe Faron will choose for you. Let it be for now, Elphyra.” She glanced over at the door as Fancypants flew in from the living room. “Well, you’re having a slow morning, Sir Fancypants.”

  The dragonette landed in his high chair and yawned. “I can’t help it—this time of year I want to sleep longer and deeper. Dragons and dragonettes don’t exactly hibernate, but except for those born to the winter climes, we do slow down.” He looked around expectantly. “Breakfast?”

  “One breakfast, coming up,” Grams said. She catered to Fancypants in a way that tickled my heart. She also catere
d to my cats. She had already fed Gem and Silver and they were snuggled on the cat tree, asleep. Gem slept with me at night, but Silver had taken to sleeping with Grams.

  “Silver’s going to miss you when you leave,” I said.

  “I will too,” Fancypants added.

  Grams laughed. “I’ll visit often enough. You both know that. And Silver will be just fine with his sister and his dragonette brother.”

  She fixed a plate for Fancypants and sat it on the tray of the highchair. It wasn’t that he was a baby—although he was new to the world, especially in the times of a dragonette’s lifespan—but the highchair tray and seat provided the perfect height for him to eat.

  Eventually, as he grew, Fancypants would be too big for the setup, but for the time being, it worked. She set the bacon and eggs in front of him and he dove in, daintily wiping his mouth with a napkin after each bite. The dragonette had manners, that much I’d give him.

  I turned back to Grams. “You’re right. I know I need to be patient, for Faron’s sake. That’s not an easy thing for me, but I’ll wait and hope.”

  “Has Bran been pushing you about the issue?” She returned to her seat.

  “Yes, but he’s not being obnoxious about it.” I changed the subject. “On other topics, my mother called last night. She’s asked us to join her and Aunt Ciara for Thanksgiving next week. That means we’ll be making dinner, given Catharine doesn’t cook.”

  My mother really didn’t do much of anything, especially if she didn’t enjoy it. I’d grown up on a diet of sandwiches, frozen dinners, and canned food. It hadn’t hurt me, but there had been no cozy Sunday dinners with roast beef and mashed potatoes, or whatever it was close families ate when they gathered together.

  “Oh, that sounds like a joyful time,” Grams said, rolling her eyes.

  “I’d rather invite them here, but at least, when it gets to be too much, we can leave. And Ciara needs us more than my mother does. Losing Owen has been hard on her. So I think we should go, if you’re willing.”

  My cousin had committed suicide the month before. He was an addict, and he had taken one too many pills, finally. The drugs had chased him into a depression, and at the end, he couldn’t find his way out. None of us had known he was mired so deep, and his death had been hard on my aunt and me. Owen and I grew up together. We used to be best buddies, but we had drifted apart. I felt some guilt over that, though logically, the past year had been hell on me, too, and I had barely been able to drag myself out of my own depression, let alone help anybody else.

  “All right, we’ll go. But I’m cooking. Those two can’t cook their way out of a paper bag,” Grams said. “Tomorrow I’ll go shopping for everything we’ll need. Otherwise, the shelves will be bare if we wait till next week. You can help me cook some of the dishes in advance, like the pies. Tell your mother we’ll be there.” She gave me a smart-assed grin.

  I snorted. “All right. At least dinner will be good.”

  My mother was a narcissist—albeit a harmless one—and she didn’t really pay attention to the comfort of others. That was one reason I’d left Port Townsend, beyond the grim memories that remained there for me.

  “Well, I’d best get my creaky old bones in gear if I’m going house hunting today.” Grams stood, carrying her dishes to the sink.

  She might call herself old, and truly, she was, at one hundred and twenty-six. But Grams was in good health and would probably be around for at least another quarter century, if not longer. Witches lived longer than regular humans, though we weren’t as long-lived as most shifters. But we aged well, and Grams looked and acted like a human half her years.

  “Get on with you. You can outwalk me any day.” It wasn’t true, but she did give me a run for my money. I handed her my dish.

  “Have you thought about whether you’re going to reopen your shop? I know you’d have to rebuild it, but…” Grams rinsed our dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I want to see what happens with the magic you’re teaching me, first. It feels like my life is shifting, and I want to see how things go.” I slid into my black leather jacket and pulled on a pair of matching gloves. “All right, I’m off.” I turned to Fancypants. “Be good today. Watch the cats after Grams leaves.”

  “I will,” he said, flying over to land on my arm. “Your great-grandmother is right about Faron. Don’t stress him. Brain injuries are dangerous.”

  “I know,” I said, holding my arm out for him to hop atop the counter. “Later.”

  As I headed toward my car, a midnight blue Chevy Equinox, I wondered what would happen today. Would Faron remember anything about us? Had he remembered anything? How would he act? I’d only seen him for a few minutes here and there since he woke up, trying not to put any stress on him by visiting too often. Now, as I started the ignition, butterflies took over in my stomach and I bumped my way down the graveled driveway, trying to think about anything else.

  Starlight Hollow was the sort of town that grew slowly. People would come through, and a few were pulled to stick around and explore, but most felt a gentle shove that moved them through quickly. It wasn’t a dangerous town, or scary, but there was a certain energy that crept through the land it was on. While a number of shifters lived in Starlight Hollow, witchfolk were the most common, and we infused our magic in the town, igniting the aura of the community.

  What a lot of people never understood was that every town had its own essential self. Some communities, like Starlight Hollow, evolved self-awareness, becoming semi-sentient. Other towns and cities remained silent, the collective consciousness slumbering in a state of perpetual hibernation.

  Bree Loomis, my best friend and a puma shifter, had moved here in her twenties. When my fiancé and I were attacked by a sadistic vampire a little over a year ago, I knew I couldn’t stay in Port Townsend. Rian’s death had scarred me. His torture had been physical, mine had been mental and emotional. The beautiful artistic town had taken on a dark gloom and I ran to escape the memories, to Starlight Hollow. But running never works, and I soon fell in love with the town. I had grown, emerging from behind the massive wall I’d built to protect myself.

  The Olympic Wolf Pack lived across the road from the main part of Starlight Hollow, in a self-organized commune. They were still part of the town, but they were an insular group, and they had built their own subdivision. Composed of pretty two- and three-bedroom single-story houses, the neighborhood was known as Rosewood Hill. The houses were built up the eastern slope leading toward the Olympic National Park. The trees were thick here—not the oldest growth in the park, but there were giants among the already towering firs and cedars, their mossy trunks soaring into the sky.

  I had plugged in my GPS because the twists and turns of the streets in the Rosewood Hill neighborhood were enough to confound even a person with the best sense of direction. It led me along the tangle of streets and alleyways until I came to Kyle’s house. He lived a few blocks over from Faron, but it might as well have been all the way across town, for all the deadends and private lanes.

  As I brought the car to a stop in front of a pale blue house with white trim, I turned off the ignition and stared at it. Faron’s home was larger, given he was the king of the Olympic Wolf Pack, but right now he needed watching until the doctors determined he was out of danger.

  When we first met, Faron and I had been at odds, butting heads and trading insults. But that had given way as an inexplicable connection spawned between us. For an alpha, he turned out to be considerably more level-headed than I had expected. He was arrogant, but he had the goods to back it up, and once we had put aside our differences, the attraction flourished. Then he had been attacked. Or rather, we had been attacked while helping Bree.

  I took a deep breath, grabbed my purse and the bouquet of flowers I had bought at the grocery store, and headed for the door. As I stopped to glance at the sky, the rain began to fall—chilly fat drops splattering to cover the ground. I ducked my head and sprinted to the porch.