Divorce, Divination and Destiny Read online

  Divorce, Divination and…Destiny?

  Midlife Mayhem Book Two

  Melinda Chase

  Edited by

  TPR Editing

  Copyright © 2020 by Melinda Chase

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Midlife Mayhem Book Two

  I thought my life was over at forty. Turns out, it had only just begun . . .

  There’s nothing like experiencing delayed ‘magical-puberty’ at midlife, but that’s where I am. One world-altering secret revealed and my safety bubble snapped into thin air.

  Discovering I’m the next descendant in a long line of witches was eventful enough, but it’s nothing compared to finding out that I’m also the only half-fae-hybrid in existence.

  At least it got my mind off my divorce.

  Now, with my newfound abilities, the impossible seems possible and the world around me has come to life in ways I never imagined.

  But with every new blessing, there comes a curse.

  The Fae don’t like me.

  The Hunter’s Council is searching for me.

  And my sometimes-enemy, sometimes-crush, Hunter, has disappeared.

  I’m not sure I’m ready for what’s coming, but I’ll be damned if I let the next chapter in my life be a short one.

  Divorce, Divination and…Destiny? Is the Second book in the Midlife Mayhem Series by Melinda Chase. Melinda loves writing tales that prove life—romance—and ‘happily-ever-afters’—do exist beyond your twenties! Her debut Series features a snarky, hilarious heroine, Shannon McCarthy, and her wild adventure of mid-life self discovery filled with mystery and romance. It's sure to please fans of traditional paranormal romance and cozy paranormal mysteries!

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Thank You for Reading!

  Want a Free Book?

  About the Author

  1

  “No, no, no, no, no!” Auntie Deedee gasped. “You—and I cannot stress this enough—should never put the rattlesnake rattles next to the love potions!”

  “Sorry!” I squeaked, accidentally dropping the little bottle filled with exactly three rattlesnake tails. I wasn’t normally such a big old klutz, but my aunt had always managed to find that perfect balance between shrill Italian grandmother and screeching bird whenever she was anxious. Or upset. Or just…normal.

  The little vial went crashing to the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces and sending rattles all over the newly mopped concrete floor. They shook as they went, warning potential pedestrians of a poisonous snake that was no longer attached.

  Oh yeah. I should probably mention that whole part about my being a witch and all. Well, a witch-fae hybrid, that is.

  You know what, let me just give you the whole down low. Save any questions for the end. Or don’t. It’s no skin off my back.

  Two months ago, I was a regular forty-year-old woman. Well, as regular as the star Boston DA can get when she also happens to be married to one of the most revered judges in town. Until, that is, my wonderful ex-husband decided he wanted to come clean about the cheating he’d been doing with one of his clerks. They were in love, as it turned out.

  See, I’m not all that great about letting other people live out their own stories. I had set up an idea of what marriage should be in my head—one that was almost impossible for anyone to actually live up to. So once I got past all of the grief, hurt, and anger, I realized I couldn’t really blame Kenneth for what had happened. Truthfully, when I was able to step back and look at it, our divorce was the best thing that could have taken place.

  Since it set everything else into motion.

  But anyway, there I was, newly divorced and starting to believe that maybe, just maybe, my family really was cursed when it came to men, just like my mother thought.

  Like any woman who finds herself completely and utterly lost, I decided to move back home to Portland, Oregon, quit my job as a DA, and have what I expected to be a classic mid-life crisis.

  It turned out to be anything but.

  Which would be how I ended up in my family’s shop, perfectly titled Magic for Real, shelving rattlesnake tails—apparently in the wrong place—and potentially causing some sort of catastrophic magic boom.

  The thing is, magic is real. I know, I was shocked when I first found out, too. Especially since I also found out that my grandmother had an illicit affair with a handsome fae man back in the forties, producing my mother. She subsequently bound my mother’s fae powers but figured I’d grow up a perfectly normal witch.

  Boy, was she wrong.

  I missed the boat on getting my powers at twenty-one, like every other McCarthy witch, and instead was given a lovely surprise when, out of nowhere, magic showed up.

  Fae magic. Powerful stuff.

  And then there were all the murders, and the fae-demon lady, and Hunter, the guy meant to kill the fae-demon lady, and the fact that he had disappeared in the most God awful, mysterious way.

  I might have feelings for him.

  But since I hadn’t seen him in over two weeks, I’d shoved that aside to try to deal with the more pressing matters at hand. Like the fact that every fae in the world would want me dead if they found out about my existence.

  “You still have so much to learn, my love,” Deedee sighed, grabbing a broom and dustpan to sweep up the mess I’d just made.

  “Sorry,” I repeated sheepishly. “I’m a bit distracted.”

  Deedee turned around and fixed me with her clear-blue eyes. It was a look I recognized, one she’d used when she caught my high school friends and me high as a kite. I’d tried to deny it, but it had been no use. Deedee knew. She always did.

  If I weren’t painfully aware that she was the lucky human of the bunch, I’d think she had some sort of psychic abilities.

  “A bit is an understatement,” she said honestly. “You’ve been acting like a high school girl mooning over her English teacher.”

  I squinted my eyes in annoyance. I really didn’t think that was a fair comparison.

  Hunter was way too cute to be a teacher.

  “Well, maybe I wouldn’t be so distracted if he hadn’t run off after calling me into the woods like he had some big secret to share,” I pointed out.

  Deedee pursed her lips, tilting her head to look me up and down, before she sighed, dropped her broom to the floor, and came over to wrap me in a warm, tight hug.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I remember when your Grams went through this, and then your mom.”

  “Went through what?” I asked, my voice coming out all muffled since it was currently stuffed into the crook of her elbow.

  “Heartbreak.”

  It was only one word. One tiny, insignificant little word, made up of even smaller, more insignificant letters.

  But it was the perfect description. That one word could shoot daggers straight through my heart.

  Because it was the truth. And I honestly wasn’t sure what I was broken-hearte
d over. It seemed too easy for me to say Hunter, especially when there were a million other things that currently held the ability to shatter my heart.

  Like, for instance, the fact that my grandfather was probably-almost-definitely alive in some dank and scary fae prison in another world right now.

  “Listen up,” Deedee said, pulling back and bending a little to look me right in the eyes, “as a co-owner of this place, I’m cutting your shift short today. Go down to the soda shop and get some ice cream, wallow for a minute or two, and then decide it’s time to pick yourself up and move on. Life is coming at us fast, Shannon, and we need to be prepared. Most of all, you.”

  Her voice was so deep and serious it sent chills up and down my spine. Deedee wasn’t one for orders, but I could tell there was no changing her mind on this one.

  Besides, I could use a break. I’d been working nearly every day the store was open, trying to take my mind off of the apocalypse-level disaster my life had become.

  I followed her orders, grabbing a double scoop of pure vanilla bean ice cream down at the old fashioned soda shop she and my uncle owned. I felt like vanilla was a good metaphor for what my soul needed. Purity. Normalcy. Something clean.

  I downed it like nobody’s business, then headed home to the little cottage on the outskirts of Portland.

  It was the first place my grams, Adora McCarthy, had bought when she came to Portland. And the only place. She’d raised my mom, Elle, in that house, and then the two of them had raised me.

  Thank goodness I didn’t have a baby to raise. Our singular bathroom was already way too crowded.

  I walked up the cobblestone pathway, past the little garden gnomes meant to ward off fairies, and the pots full of all sorts of strange herbs meant for potion making and pushed open the giant wooden door.

  We never locked the place. Someone would have to be crazy to stomp into a house full of three witches.

  The moment I stepped through the door, accidentally tangling my red curls in one of the hanging charms Grams strung up everywhere, a smell hit my nostrils.

  It wasn’t what I would call, well, pleasant. Actually, it smelled like someone had taken a pile of cow dung, wrapped it up in a rotting banana peel, and then attempted to boil it with lemons and sugar.

  Herman, Grams’ old familiar, was curled up in the corner of the living room, up against the brick fireplace, with his tail all puffed up as he stared toward the kitchen like he wanted to murder someone.

  He probably did. Herman wasn’t the nicest of cats.

  “I smell it, buddy,” I assured him when he tossed a tepid meow in my direction.

  Plopping my purse onto one of the entryway hooks, I sucked in a breath through my mouth and promised myself I’d hold it in until I could get past the kitchen and up the stairs, where I’d light a thousand candles and curl up in my bed to continue my existential crisis.

  “Shannon!” my mom called, just as I was about to sneak past the kitchen. “No, Mama, the recipe says to drain the beef before you put it in the pan. Does that look drained to you?”

  “Elle, I have no idea what the hell ‘drain’ means. It’s beef!”

  “It means you get rid of all that liquid fat,” I told them, stepping into the kitchen and doing my absolute best not to puke.

  Not only was the smell a million times stronger, but the place was also a mess. Dirty pots and pans were everywhere, accompanied by piles of food probably meant to be our meal at one point or another. There was a pile of pasta so burned it looked like charcoal, right next to a mountain of broccoli that was somehow shredded into nothing more than mush.

  There was a reason my mom and Grams didn’t do much of the cooking. Unfortunately for me, I had inherited their skills, or lack thereof, which meant I often ordered from the little pizza shop just down the block. We’d had pizza so many times in the last few months that I was sure I’d punch a piece of pepperoni the next time I saw it.

  “Whatcha guys cooking?” I asked casually, grimacing against the stink.

  “Chicken parmesan!” Mom replied proudly, flinging around a wooden spoon laden with tomato sauce. Some of the sauce flew off, and I just barely managed to duck before I received an impromptu tomato facial.

  “Uh….you guys know chicken parmesan is supposed to have chicken, right?” I asked.

  “Of course, dear,” Grams replied, rolling her eyes. “But this is a newfangled recipe. We’ve got the chicken in the oven, and this meat is for the sauce.”

  “Okay,” I shrugged. I was about to turn around when I realized just how suspicious this whole scene was. After all, the last time Grams had cooked was my first night home after the divorce. “Wait a minute. What’s with the meal?”

  Mom and Grams shared a look that I probably wasn’t supposed to see before they both looked back at me and grinned.

  “Nothing,” they replied in unison.

  “I thought we agreed—no more lies,” I pointed out. “What’s going on?”

  Mom pursed her lips before she set down the spoon and came over to me.

  “Deedee mentioned you were a bit distracted today, and we thought we could cheer you up,” she murmured. “After everything with that boy…and the magic…we just wanted to do something nice.”

  An uncharacteristic swell of emotion suddenly overcame me. Tears pricked my eyes, and I wrapped my mother’s thin frame in a warm hug.

  Since I’d moved home, I’d become quite the hugger.

  “Thanks, guys. But I’m really fine. Life goes on, right?” I chose to ignore their blatant looks of disbelief as I disengaged from my mom and turned to head up the stairs to my room. “Let me know when you’re done cooking. I’ll do the dishes.”

  “Wait, Shannon!” Mom called out before I could make my final escape.

  “Yeah?”

  “Have you considered going back to work? I’m sure Portland could use a talented DA, and it would be a pretty good distraction.” The look of hope on her face was so angelic, I almost hated to ruin it.

  “I’m not going to be a DA anymore,” I replied. “Shannon McCarthy is a full-time witch now.”

  2

  I turned from the kitchen and headed toward my room, not at all expecting to hear two pairs of feet patter after me. I figured my announcement would be met with cheers, hoorays, and probably a set of excited screams seeing as they’d never wanted me to go to Boston to study law in the first place.

  “Wait, Shannon, are you sure about this?” Mom asked as she ran up the stairwell behind me. “I mean, you’ve put so much into this career and life, and…uh…”

  She was looking to Grams for help. I didn’t even have to turn around to know that. Whenever Mom got lost, she always looked to Grams, much the same way I looked at her whenever I didn’t know what to do.

  Moms are pretty great for that.

  “It’s just that we wouldn’t want to see you lose your dream for all of this craziness,” Grams stepped in.

  I was in my bedroom now, turning to the vanity so I could grab a scrunchy and toss my hair up into a messy bun. It was my favorite ritual whenever I got home from a particularly long day.

  And right now, all of my days seemed particularly long.

  “Really?” I asked, looking them both dead in their emerald green eyes. “Because a few months ago, you would have sobbed with happiness if I’d made this announcement.”

  “This is true, Mama,” my mom agreed, turning to her mother. “Why are we not excited about this?”

  “Well, because, being a lawyer was your dream, Shannon,” Grams breathed. She stepped closer to me and cupped my cheeks with her warm, wrinkled hands. “I don’t want you to give up your dream because you feel like this is your…path…or something. Like Harry Potter. Or Bilbo Baggins.”

  “Okay, one, those are stories,” I chuckled. “And, two, I have a new dream now. I think all of that other stuff—college, my job, Kenneth—was all because I was running. Something inside of me knew I was different, and by extension, you guys, and I wan
ted to get away from that, whether I realized it or not. But now, I want to know everything there is to know. About being a witch and a fae.”

  I swear that last sentence made them tear up with more pride than they would have had if they’d just witnessed my presidential inauguration. Grams clasped her hands to her mouth and took in a shaky breath, and Mom broke out in a smile wider than any I’d ever seen, showcasing two perfect rows of shiny, white teeth.

  “If you want to learn, then we’ll teach you,” Grams beamed.

  “Except for the part about being a fae,” Mom cut in quickly. “Hate to break it to ya, kid, but we don’t know shit about that.”

  “This is accurate,” Grams replied sadly as if she could suddenly gain thousands of years of fae knowledge just by being upset.

  “That’s okay,” I told them. “How about we take it one step at a time? Mom, Grams, teach me to be a McCarthy witch!”

  “Yeah, baby!” Mom shouted, pumping her fist in the air. “But can we eat dinner first? I’m starving.”

  Unfortunately for us, the next day was Saturday, which meant all three of us were absolutely slammed at the store. Deedee liked to take Saturdays off to “commune with nature.” To this day, none of us quite knew what that meant. When I was a kid, I liked to imagine that she was running naked in the woods somewhere, just soaking up all those natural vibes.

  Come to think of it, I may not have been too far off.

  But, since Deedee wasn’t working Saturdays, that meant Mom and Grams had to take over. In the last year or so, the shop had become so busy that the two of them had just about forced me to join in on the fun.