What readers are saying about the book:
Big Al's Books and Pals Review:
Murder by Magic has a combination that, at least in my experience, is unique. As a general rule, I’d say unique is good. It’s a cozy mystery, but the amateur sleuth involved is a witch. While a cozy will typically involve characters from a tightknit, small community, having this community not only be a small town, but more specifically those residents of the town with magical powers, is a change of pace. Our intrepid detective, Ola Mae Masters, is a witch who just recently found out she is a witch and is still discovering and learning how to use her powers. This only adds to the story, both with some interesting twists to the storyline and some additional tension, both for her and for us as the reader. There might be a budding romance too. If you enjoy cozy mysteries and paranormal romances that push the boundary of the genre, Murder by Magic would be a good choice.
If you like both, it should be a no-brainer.
What Other Readers Are Saying:
"Murder by Magic was a delightful surprise. I loved the characters (even the very colorful secondary characters) and the beach side setting. But what I particularly liked was this author's unique voice. There was an energetic cadence to the writing with little asides and an almost 'talk-to-the-camera' vibe that made the book fun, but she was equally adept at creating the necessary suspense for the murder mystery. Dark and light, this book has it all. I would recommend it to anyone who enjoys a little romance, a little mystery and a lot of witchery."
" Each of Meriam Wihelm's books are entertaining and easy reads in my busy life. Following the lives of the residents of this seaside town always leave me with the feeling I know them and a craving for a cinnamon roll. Follow her series and you will not be disappointed."
"I loved all of New Moon Beach."
"I have visited New Moon Beach six times now and loved every moment...I highly recommend this series and reading it from the beginning. I for one hope there will be more books in the future but for now I am a very satisfied and happy reader."
"Love to escape into Wilhelm's fun books!! Tasty treats that transport you to the beach without getting sand all over your clean, shiny floors. Calls for a field trip to the VERY beach described. Can't wait to get back there for a visit!!!"
PROLOGUE
At least five days a week I pop out of bed at five forty-five a.m. and embrace my early morning ritual of a brisk walk along the winding bluffs and beaches of New Moon Beach; always with a steaming cup of French Vanilla coffee in hand. I guess you could say that I’m a creature of habit; addicted to following the same routine, day in or day out - rain or shine. It’s what makes me…me.
To live happily I not only require a fair amount of oxygen, I crave the smell of the sea, the sound of crashing waves, and the taste of sea salt on my lips. I’m energized by the antics of ugly, brown pelicans as they recklessly dive in and out of the coastal waters. And my spirits are always boosted by sunrays that sparkle down warming my back as I walk our local sandy shores.
I revel in the smell of Coppertone soaked tourists, the old creosote saturated timbers on our pier and the stink of a seaweed laden red tide. My morning beach routine is a must and acts like an invigorating tonic filling me up and fortifying me for my day ahead.
I’ve lived in New Moon Beach for about a year. I came here right after I graduated from college and, since moving here, I’ve never really wanted to live anywhere else. My name is Ola Mae Masters and New Moon Beach is where I make my home.
I caught you just then. You might not have realized it, but I could hear you laughing out loud when I mentioned my first name. After all, who names their kid Ola Mae - right? I may be short in stature, but all five foot two of me is highly sensitive - so don’t doubt me when I tell you that I can still hear you laughing.
Why my mom named me Ola Mae is a mystery to me. Was it her mother’s name, her grandmother’s? Who knows? I’m pretty sure that my father had nothing to do with it and even less to do with me back then. I don’t know where my curly blonde hair, the dusting of freckles that run across my nose or my crystal blue eyes come from. I have very few memories of my mom and from the one and only picture I have of her, I can tell you that I look nothing like her. One thing that I do know for sure is that I’ve been quite successful in convincing almost everyone in my beach community to just call me — Mae.
Since moving here, I’ve made it a point to get to know most everyone in town and my morning walks are generally punctuated by greetings from regular beach folk. Same morning walk – same morning people; only the sea changes.
Some mornings I fight sand coated winds that actually bring tears to my eyes. Other mornings I enjoy the placid waves that kiss the shoreline, highlighting the sandal free footprints left by early morning surfers. My favorite mornings are when the ocean erupts with power. Restless waves crash the shoreline challenging even the best swimmers and making fishermen wish they’d just stayed home. It’s almost as if the sea knows I’m coming and waits to help me set my mood for the day.
I love watching the surfers riding on foam tipped waves; often crashing but rarely giving up. I haven’t tried surfing yet, but that hasn’t stopped me from getting to know the names of most of these early morning athletes. A few of them have offered to teach me how to ride a board, but I haven’t found the time or my nerve yet.
The ocean, the surfers, the birds, the beach walkers - they are the constants in my life. Guess that’s why something felt off this morning when I saw her sitting all alone on a bench, staring out to sea. From what I could tell, she was a new face in town; at least she was new to me. And her appearance was certainly not like any of the random tourists who frequent our beach city.
She caught my eye in part because she sat motionless, dressed all in black from head to toe; including a large pair of Jackie O designer sunglasses that covered a good portion of her small, round face. Raven black hair was collected on the top of her head the way a geisha would wear it. And shiny, red enameled chopsticks protruded from an unkempt bun that rocked precariously, buffeted by the early morning sea breezes.
If I let my imagination run wild, I can envision those chopsticks becoming some kind of mortal weaponry with razor-sharp spiky tips, capable of puncturing even the toughest of skin. Her bushy black mane had a strange, dull hue to it and I questioned whether it was her real hair or a weird accessory worn in an attempt to make some attention seeking fashion statement.
Looking at her one might wonder if she had recently attended a funeral, although that seemed unlikely since the sun was just now coming up. She wore a tightly fitted, black suit with shiny buttons that glittered like diamonds in the morning sunlight. The jacket’s tight Nehru collar squeezed her neck, forcing her full double chin upward and making her look a bit like a bullfrog. Black spidery lace crawled out from the cuffs of her jacket and shrouded delicate pale hands. Her short A-line skirt accentuated long spindly legs encased in sleek, red soled high heeled boots; a far cry from the flip flops or tennis shoes most beach goers were sporting this morning.
If I hadn’t had such a close-up sighting, I’d have presumed that the visitor was in her late sixties or maybe even older. But the part of her face not covered by her obnoxious sunglasses was surprisingly unwrinkled and smooth, reflecting someone much younger. Even though the visible part of her face was without lines, there was harshness to it and a pallor that spoke almost of illness. Maybe she stuck out even more because her complexion was missing the natural sun kissed tan common among the majority of our New Moon Beach residents. But, in truth, I think it had more to do with the strange aura that was emanating from her body. I mean the woman actually glowed.
Before I go any further, there’s something that I haven’t told you about myself that you really ought to know. I’ve just recently learned that I’m a witch – I know, pretty weird huh? But from all the stuff I’ve discovered lately, I’m inclined to believe it. And it kind of explains all of the strange vibes I used to get when I was just a kid. Back then I didn’t understand what any of it meant. And I really didn’t like how it made me feel. It just kept happening. And now this mystery woman was shooting a bucket load of those same peculiar feeling vibes my way.
I had a strong premonition that she and I were going to get to know each other a lot better, if not now, very soon.
Staring at her I watched as a lone tear escaped from behind her glasses and the woman in black suddenly came to life. She turned, pushed the sunglasses up onto her forehead, wiped the tear away with her index finger and focused her eyes directly on me. Her hypnotic gaze was unsettling and definitely not what I had expected. A pair of amber eyes, projecting a hint of both yellow and copper and shielded by extraordinarily thick black lashes held me prisoner.
All at once I could feel my palms begin to sweat as my stomach rolled and a thundering roar filled my ears, completely silencing the raucous ocean. Anger bubbled out of the woman and it was as if I could feel her thoughts painfully shoving their way into my head.
Reality felt like an ugly pinch as it dawned on me that this was not the look of a normal woman in mourning, but perhaps a supernatural creature saturated by some crazy fury. Even with my newly emerging magical powers, I could not figure out why she was directing her anger my way. Her lone tear seemed more an expression of annoyance than an emotional release. The longer she looked at me, the more her copper irises glowed and the more ill at ease I became. I mentally shoved back refusing to let her fierce thoughts intrude into my brain.
Who the heck was this dark diva and what was she doing on my beach? And why did I have the ominous feeling that she brought a whole lot of danger to our quaint seaside town of New Moon Beach? A chill ran down my back causing me to consider what other dark magic she may have sent my way. Was she alone or attached to something or someone far worse?
CHAPTER ONE
“I have no idea who she was,” I said to Miami as I filled a brown pottery mug with hot French Vanilla coffee and passed it to my co-worker. “I was just minding my own business, walking along the beach like I do every morning. Next thing I know this strange woman is threatening my morning mellow; giving off one weird vibe.”
“Weird vibe like she’s evil or weird vibe like she’s some kind of nut? I mean, who wears a black suit to the beach? I’m a witch and I don’t even do that; unless it’s a bathing suit, of course,” Miami said with a smirk as she blew away puffs of swirling steam from her coffee.
“I’m not sure, but I could swear that before she pushed up those crazy big sunglasses, her eyes were glowing. I could almost see their coppery fire burning through the dark lenses. I can’t tell you for absolute certain, but I’m pretty sure that she’s got some kind of hinky magic attached to her.”
“Hinky magic? Did you just make that word up? What does that even mean? I’ve never heard you use hinky before. In fact, I’ve never even heard of that word - period. And anyway, if you were so suspicious, why didn’t you just stop and talk to her? I mean, couldn’t you have easily checked her out with all of your super witchy powers?” Miami waved her hands in the air as if to make a point.
“Come on Miami, give me a break. You know that this paranormal stuff is all new to me. It’s hinky – creepy, different, strange, like that. Whatever kind of magic that diva was peddling was something I’d never seen before. It’s just not fair. I haven’t been at this long enough to know which kind of magic to embrace and which to fear. In fact, you know that it all kind of scares me.”
Ever since I came to New Moon Beach and was told about my magical abilities, everyone has treated me like some kind of super star witch. But as far as I can tell, I’m what you call a late bloomer when it comes to magic. Despite what the coven members seem to believe, witchcraft is just not something that comes easily to me. Yes, I can sometimes read minds, sometimes sense danger, sometimes see the future; sometimes, sometimes, sometimes. But I can’t do any of those things with any regularity. In short, I sort of suck at magic and it’s really frustrating.
Until I get a better handle on any of my mystical abilities, I think I deserve a little more patience from everyone. They all need to remember that I didn’t grow up in a family with anything paranormal happening in it. I grew up in a private girls’ boarding school thinking that I was just some misfit who didn’t belong anywhere. St. Guinevere’s is a small K-12 academy in Northern California and a posh dumping ground for girls with family money but no family. It’s run by a tight little group of Catholic nuns, most of them well over the age of sixty.
I got dropped off at St. G’s at the age of seven, when my mom died. And, as no one seemed to be able to tell me who my father was, I remained there until I turned eighteen and won a scholarship to Rice University in Houston, Texas. It didn’t dawn on me until I was older that someone, other than my long deceased mother, might have been helping to pay the pricey tuition for St. G’s. But I’ll save that story for later.
The really sad thing is that I never did feel at home at St. Guinevere’s. There was just something way too different about me to ever fit in. As a little girl I was tormented by a bunch of strange and troubling feelings that always seemed to be percolating inside of me. I was often frightened by the quirky dreams I had at night and the strange images I could see that no one else could. And there wasn’t anyone else like me that I could share any of this with.
I hated to walk by the cemetery that was right next to our school. No matter how tightly I closed my eyes, I could still see strange ghost people walking across the grassy yard. If I was really quiet I could hear them as they called out, searching for something or someone they must have lost. It was really scary for a little kid.
Sometimes I’d walk by one of the nuns and I could actually hear her thinking, That is such a strange child. It used to make me cry. But I had no idea why any of that was happening to me and I never could have predicted that I’d find out later that I was a witch!
It would have been nice to know what was really going on and that I had a mother and a father who were both more than familiar with magic. But oh no, nobody let me in on that secret until this year.
It was the unexpected opportunity to buy my own bookstore that actually drew me to New Moon Beach. I am and have always been a lover of books. As a kid I spent hours hiding out within the pages of fantasies and mysteries. I loved stories where characters traveled through paranormal worlds. Tales about strange lands filled with unusual or creepy characters with special powers somehow made me feel normal.
I could envision myself emerging from my wardrobe into the world of Narnia. And I just knew that I could be friends with the teens in Twilight. Without a doubt, Harry Potter and I would have had a thing.
During college, I’d been drawn more to Stephen King and Jeremy Bates. But I also enjoyed a few spicy romance novels. I mean, who wasn’t reading Fifty Shades of Grey?
Since books have been my faithful companions throughout my entire life, it made sense that that I would want to open up my own bookstore once I finished school. But making that actually happen felt like an impossible pipe dream.
I spent my senior year of college working on a thesis on the development of a small business. Of course, I chose a book shop as my proposed enterprise. And over the year I used every opportunity to learn more about how to grow a business. My professors were pivotal in introducing me to the right people and I gathered a portfolio of facts, wrote an A-one thesis paper and earned a few important professional acquaintances along the way.
I’m not sure what made me even look through the Houston Chronicle ads that Saturday morning. But once I’d seen the advertisement, I couldn’t seem to shake it out of my head. I’d just graduated from Rice and after reading about a store for sale in California, I wondered if I had the guts to travel all the way from Houston by myself to check this shop out? And, even if I did, would I be able to secure a small business loan to make it happen?
I got one of those quirky feelings in my stomach, like this empty little shop was calling out to me. And before giving in to any of my fears, I’d packed my old VW full of my meager belongings, cashed in my small savings account and mapped out my trip to California.
The ad had been short and sweet - a small beach shop now available for sale. It appeared to be just the right size and the location was amazing. I worried that it was too good to be true. I was sure that there must be an error because the price was so low. But when I called, the old lady on the phone had assured me that the price was correct.
Funny thing - and I know that this may sound dumb to you - but it almost felt like the owner had been waiting for my call. So off I went and much to my surprise, the shop was soon mine. The bank agreed to my loan telling me that they’re in the business of supporting young entrepreneurs. Was I lucky or what?
The day after I moved to New Moon Beach and into my apartment above the bookstore, a man showed up at my door claiming to be my father. He said that his name was Alistair Merriman and that he had only recently found out about my existence. Apparently, about twenty years ago, he and my mother had a thing together and I was the result. And after recently learning about me, he had come to meet me, complete with as many questions as I had.
Alistair Merriman didn’t appear to be a kook. I mean, I didn’t get any of my strange warning vibes off of him and there was something especially kind about his eyes. So I let him in and we talked for over two hours. Apparently Sister Madelyn had recently made her way to Alistair’s door. An old woman by now, she told him that she had been plagued with guilt for not disclosing my existence to him earlier. She explained that she had made a promise to my mother, a burdensome promise that she no longer wished to carry. And so began his search for me. Imagine his surprise to find me just a few miles away.
Alistair told me all about himself and his family. He apologized over and over again for not knowing about me sooner. Either he is a really good actor or he really meant it. I wasn’t sure, but I guess I secretly hoped just a little bit that he meant it. He never did say much about my mother. I presumed he was saving that for later, once he felt more comfortable with me.
Within a week I was shocked to find out that I had three half sisters, a stepmother and a slew of other soon-to-be-met relatives. I’ve got to tell you that I was more than a little surprised when the entire family made it clear that they were happy and committed to taking me into their flock. I was torn between letting fear rule me and rejecting the one thing I had always wanted (a family) or believing in them and accepting the enticing kinship that was being offered. Dangling the possibility of having a family was just too tempting so I agreed to get to know the Merriman tribe.
The whole witch revelation has been a complete shock to me. I had no idea I was a witch like my sisters Olivia, Constance and Harmony. In fact, I had no idea that I had any sisters or that they could be witches too. I didn’t even really know what it meant to be a witch. I still can’t help but wonder when I’m going to start cackling or feel the urge to ride a broom? I check my face numerous times a day to make sure that no warts have suddenly popped up on my chin or nose. And I can assure you that my father and his connection to the world of magic have been a total surprise to me.
I now have a demanding business that I love, a family I hadn’t known I had and freakish magical powers that keep erupting and scare the death out of me. That’s an awful lot for an orphan from San Fran to get used to all at once. I wonder what the nuns would think of all of this.
So anyway, maybe now you can understand why I use the word hinky to describe the kind of strange magic that weird woman on the beach was using and why I wasn’t sure how to handle it. The charmed world is just so very new to me. And even though I may have a bunch of intermittent powers that seem to be getting stronger, I’m not able to fully access or control any of them with any regularity as yet. Everyone expects me to perform like a star witch and I’m still in a slow burn learning mode. It gets tiresome having to come up with excuses to explain to disappointed friends and family about my lack of mystical polish. Or maybe it’s just that I’m disappointed with myself for not catching on faster. I mean I was always a pretty good student, but this magic stuff has really unsettled my psyche!
Looking back at Miami I realized that I’d gotten temporarily lost in my own head and plugged back into our conversation.
“Even though the woman looked kind of scary, I actually would have talked to her, but I got distracted when some idiot bounced his car up onto the curb right next to me. I really think that drivers around here have gotten scary. This guy just ran his car right up onto the curb and then jumped out and looked at me as if I’d done it!”
“Did you?” asked Miami.
“What? No! I don’t think so. Why would I do that? In all of the confusion the mysterious chick just up and disappeared. I never did get a chance to confirm who or what she was. And to make matters worse, the driver kept whining on and on about his car being possessed. Anyway, there’s nothing more that I can do about her right now and we’ve got a ton of books to unload this morning if we’re ever going to get them up onto the shelves.”
“Yes, boss,” Miami said dramatically as she drained her coffee, rinsed the cup in the sink and slowly trudged off to open the dozen or so boxes that are stuffed with new inventory and awaiting our attention. Miami can be so dramatic when she wants to.
I really did need to help Miami with the boxes, but the rumbling in my stomach had me longing for a cinnamon roll or two from Gino’s Bakery. The smell of sinfully delicious baked goods had been creeping over here all morning and I just couldn’t resist it any longer.
This is a common occurrence since my shop is just five doors down from Gino’s and I am a staunch sugarholic. I constantly have to fight the urge to dive into chocolate, cinnamon or caramel treats and Gino’s is the best way to appease any sugar cravings.
“I’ll be back in five,” I called out to Miami. “Go ahead and get started on the boxes while I go and get us some treats.”
Not waiting to hear her response I nipped over to Gino’s Bakery and walked into the middle of one very disturbing conversation. If the bakery hadn’t smelled so darn good and I wasn’t so hungry, I would have turned right around and left. After all, who wants to hear this kind of news after the bizarre morning I’ve already had?
A young police officer was standing at the bakery counter talking loudly; clearly trying to sound important and make points with Angelica, Gino’s daughter. I assume the officer thought sharing inside info on a breaking police story was the way to her heart.
“They found him at the base of the cliffs and his body was a battered, bloody mess,” he said with his hands resting impressively on his gun belt.
“Was he already dead?” Angelica asked timidly, her dark brown eyes appearing more than a little troubled.
“Yes ma’am. No one could survive that fall. He was dead alright — dead as a door nail. Some surfer found his body all broken up on the rocks. The dead guy’s head was all beat up. We’ve got guys out there now scouring the area for details. I guess the kid used his cell phone to call us. He was really freaked out; threw up all over himself. ”
“Yuck,” Angelica said with a sigh as she noticed my arrival for the first time. “Oh, Hi Mae, this is Officer Tim Tyler. He’s new to the New Moon Beach PD. Right Tim?”
“Yes ma’am,” he said with a proud smile that shows off some amazing movie star quality orthodontia. I wonder if he was born with those beauties or if he just had a good dentist he could recommend. I’ve always been embarrassed by my crooked teeth and want to pop for some braces as soon as I’m financially able to.
“Tim was just telling me a gruesome story about what happened down off the cliffs. I need to go to the back for a minute, Mae can you keep him company while I grab his donuts?” Angelica wiped her hands on her apron and mumbled, “I really hope this murder doesn’t affect my business.”
Angelica excused herself and I noticed that her face was pale, her eyes were watering and I swear I could hear her stomach churning. Clearly she was having some kind of physical reaction to the cop’s storytelling.
Remembering my manners, I reached out to shake the officer’s hand, saying, “Hi Tim, I’m Mae Masters. I own the Literally Magic Book Store just down the street. Um, did I hear you say that someone was killed?”
Before I can remove my hand, a prickle of annoyance shoots through Tim’s fingers and transfers to mine in the form of an electrical current. Damn, I hate when that happens. Clearly I have pushed one of Tim’s buttons and he’s unconsciously telling me to back off. At least that’s what I think the blast means.
Apparently unaware of the shock he had just inflicted on me, the young officer straightened his back and responded, “No ma’am, I did not say that. I said that a man was found dead at the base of the New Moon Beach cliffs. We don’t know if there is any foul play involved; the investigation has just begun. Could have been murder, an accident or even suicide; we just don’t know at this time. The victim was fully clothed, wearing what looked to be business attire; nothing else special about him that we can determine as yet.”
“He must have been on his way to work, don’t you think? I mean, who goes to the beach in a suit?” I said, suddenly remembering the black diva. I willed thoughts of her out of my head and asked, “When did it happen?”
“I was first on the scene at approximately six a.m. this morning. A surfer found him some time earlier. Dude told me that he didn’t see or hear anything; just walked out of the water and stumbled upon the body.”
“What a way to start a morning! Did anyone recognize the dead guy?” Angelica asked as she returned sipping water from a Dixie cup and looking a bit less pale.
“As I said before, we are still investigating. I really shouldn’t have shared so much with you two. Do me a favor and keep this to yourselves until the department makes an official statement, okay? I’ve got to get back to the station pronto,” Tim said rather nervously as he checked the time on his watch. “Thanks for the donuts, Angelica. The guys will love them.”
“You’re welcome,” Angelica said, beaming before turning to me. “The new guy at the station always gets stuck bringing donuts to his team. I felt sorry for him and threw in a couple cinnamon rolls too. He’s kind of cute, don’t you think? A little geeky, but still pretty cute,” Angelica said sweetly as she watched Tim slide his long legs back into his patrol car.
“I guess.” I’m not sure what Angelica sees in him, but the straight laced Officer Tim Tyler type is definitely not my cup of tea. This might surprise you, but I go for the more free spirited, live and let live kind of man.
“That was one ugly story he was telling you. Kind of gave me the willies! I haven’t lived here that long; does this kind of thing happen often around here?”
Angelica made a face and said, “No, uh-uh. No way! I can’t remember anything like this ever happening here. Dead bodies and New Moon Beach do not go together; at least not as far as I know.”
“I’m glad to hear that, but now that he’s got my curiosity revved up would you please call me if you hear anything else? I’ve got to get back to the shop. Miami is going to kill me for leaving her with a ton of work. Oops, probably a poor choice of words,” I said with a nervous smile.
“You think?”
“What I do think, Angelica, is that you have an admirer. Something tells me that Officer Tim will be making a regular pit stop here to see more of you and your cinnamon rolls. Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Do you have any of those cinnamon rolls left? I know that Miami would just love one and, um, so would I.”
“Sure, give me a minute,” Angelica said as she closed the donut display case, still thinking out loud.
“What a sad day. I keep trying to figure out who the dead guy might be. Was he married…have kids? Tim didn’t really give us much info about what the man looked like. Just went on and on about the blood and his neck and…” I lost the rest of her words as she scurried off in search of my desired rolls.
Returning moments later and handing me a little white bag with a gold Gino’s Bakery stamp on it, Angelica continued, “This whole murder thing really creeps me out. I wonder if we have a killer living in New Moon Beach and I wonder if we know him… or her?” she said with a nervous giggle.
“Guess we’ll have to wait and see,” I said as I hurried, bag in hand, back to my store. A murderer here in New Moon Beach? What next? This whole morning was giving me a headache. First the weird visitor and now a dead body. I wonder if my dark diva and the dead man have anything in common. Oh man, I can have such a wild imagination when left to my own machinations.
Big Al's Books and Pals Review:
Murder by Magic has a combination that, at least in my experience, is unique. As a general rule, I’d say unique is good. It’s a cozy mystery, but the amateur sleuth involved is a witch. While a cozy will typically involve characters from a tightknit, small community, having this community not only be a small town, but more specifically those residents of the town with magical powers, is a change of pace. Our intrepid detective, Ola Mae Masters, is a witch who just recently found out she is a witch and is still discovering and learning how to use her powers. This only adds to the story, both with some interesting twists to the storyline and some additional tension, both for her and for us as the reader. There might be a budding romance too. If you enjoy cozy mysteries and paranormal romances that push the boundary of the genre, Murder by Magic would be a good choice.
If you like both, it should be a no-brainer.
What Other Readers Are Saying:
"Murder by Magic was a delightful surprise. I loved the characters (even the very colorful secondary characters) and the beach side setting. But what I particularly liked was this author's unique voice. There was an energetic cadence to the writing with little asides and an almost 'talk-to-the-camera' vibe that made the book fun, but she was equally adept at creating the necessary suspense for the murder mystery. Dark and light, this book has it all. I would recommend it to anyone who enjoys a little romance, a little mystery and a lot of witchery."
" Each of Meriam Wihelm's books are entertaining and easy reads in my busy life. Following the lives of the residents of this seaside town always leave me with the feeling I know them and a craving for a cinnamon roll. Follow her series and you will not be disappointed."
"I loved all of New Moon Beach."
"I have visited New Moon Beach six times now and loved every moment...I highly recommend this series and reading it from the beginning. I for one hope there will be more books in the future but for now I am a very satisfied and happy reader."
"Love to escape into Wilhelm's fun books!! Tasty treats that transport you to the beach without getting sand all over your clean, shiny floors. Calls for a field trip to the VERY beach described. Can't wait to get back there for a visit!!!"
PROLOGUE
At least five days a week I pop out of bed at five forty-five a.m. and embrace my early morning ritual of a brisk walk along the winding bluffs and beaches of New Moon Beach; always with a steaming cup of French Vanilla coffee in hand. I guess you could say that I’m a creature of habit; addicted to following the same routine, day in or day out - rain or shine. It’s what makes me…me.
To live happily I not only require a fair amount of oxygen, I crave the smell of the sea, the sound of crashing waves, and the taste of sea salt on my lips. I’m energized by the antics of ugly, brown pelicans as they recklessly dive in and out of the coastal waters. And my spirits are always boosted by sunrays that sparkle down warming my back as I walk our local sandy shores.
I revel in the smell of Coppertone soaked tourists, the old creosote saturated timbers on our pier and the stink of a seaweed laden red tide. My morning beach routine is a must and acts like an invigorating tonic filling me up and fortifying me for my day ahead.
I’ve lived in New Moon Beach for about a year. I came here right after I graduated from college and, since moving here, I’ve never really wanted to live anywhere else. My name is Ola Mae Masters and New Moon Beach is where I make my home.
I caught you just then. You might not have realized it, but I could hear you laughing out loud when I mentioned my first name. After all, who names their kid Ola Mae - right? I may be short in stature, but all five foot two of me is highly sensitive - so don’t doubt me when I tell you that I can still hear you laughing.
Why my mom named me Ola Mae is a mystery to me. Was it her mother’s name, her grandmother’s? Who knows? I’m pretty sure that my father had nothing to do with it and even less to do with me back then. I don’t know where my curly blonde hair, the dusting of freckles that run across my nose or my crystal blue eyes come from. I have very few memories of my mom and from the one and only picture I have of her, I can tell you that I look nothing like her. One thing that I do know for sure is that I’ve been quite successful in convincing almost everyone in my beach community to just call me — Mae.
Since moving here, I’ve made it a point to get to know most everyone in town and my morning walks are generally punctuated by greetings from regular beach folk. Same morning walk – same morning people; only the sea changes.
Some mornings I fight sand coated winds that actually bring tears to my eyes. Other mornings I enjoy the placid waves that kiss the shoreline, highlighting the sandal free footprints left by early morning surfers. My favorite mornings are when the ocean erupts with power. Restless waves crash the shoreline challenging even the best swimmers and making fishermen wish they’d just stayed home. It’s almost as if the sea knows I’m coming and waits to help me set my mood for the day.
I love watching the surfers riding on foam tipped waves; often crashing but rarely giving up. I haven’t tried surfing yet, but that hasn’t stopped me from getting to know the names of most of these early morning athletes. A few of them have offered to teach me how to ride a board, but I haven’t found the time or my nerve yet.
The ocean, the surfers, the birds, the beach walkers - they are the constants in my life. Guess that’s why something felt off this morning when I saw her sitting all alone on a bench, staring out to sea. From what I could tell, she was a new face in town; at least she was new to me. And her appearance was certainly not like any of the random tourists who frequent our beach city.
She caught my eye in part because she sat motionless, dressed all in black from head to toe; including a large pair of Jackie O designer sunglasses that covered a good portion of her small, round face. Raven black hair was collected on the top of her head the way a geisha would wear it. And shiny, red enameled chopsticks protruded from an unkempt bun that rocked precariously, buffeted by the early morning sea breezes.
If I let my imagination run wild, I can envision those chopsticks becoming some kind of mortal weaponry with razor-sharp spiky tips, capable of puncturing even the toughest of skin. Her bushy black mane had a strange, dull hue to it and I questioned whether it was her real hair or a weird accessory worn in an attempt to make some attention seeking fashion statement.
Looking at her one might wonder if she had recently attended a funeral, although that seemed unlikely since the sun was just now coming up. She wore a tightly fitted, black suit with shiny buttons that glittered like diamonds in the morning sunlight. The jacket’s tight Nehru collar squeezed her neck, forcing her full double chin upward and making her look a bit like a bullfrog. Black spidery lace crawled out from the cuffs of her jacket and shrouded delicate pale hands. Her short A-line skirt accentuated long spindly legs encased in sleek, red soled high heeled boots; a far cry from the flip flops or tennis shoes most beach goers were sporting this morning.
If I hadn’t had such a close-up sighting, I’d have presumed that the visitor was in her late sixties or maybe even older. But the part of her face not covered by her obnoxious sunglasses was surprisingly unwrinkled and smooth, reflecting someone much younger. Even though the visible part of her face was without lines, there was harshness to it and a pallor that spoke almost of illness. Maybe she stuck out even more because her complexion was missing the natural sun kissed tan common among the majority of our New Moon Beach residents. But, in truth, I think it had more to do with the strange aura that was emanating from her body. I mean the woman actually glowed.
Before I go any further, there’s something that I haven’t told you about myself that you really ought to know. I’ve just recently learned that I’m a witch – I know, pretty weird huh? But from all the stuff I’ve discovered lately, I’m inclined to believe it. And it kind of explains all of the strange vibes I used to get when I was just a kid. Back then I didn’t understand what any of it meant. And I really didn’t like how it made me feel. It just kept happening. And now this mystery woman was shooting a bucket load of those same peculiar feeling vibes my way.
I had a strong premonition that she and I were going to get to know each other a lot better, if not now, very soon.
Staring at her I watched as a lone tear escaped from behind her glasses and the woman in black suddenly came to life. She turned, pushed the sunglasses up onto her forehead, wiped the tear away with her index finger and focused her eyes directly on me. Her hypnotic gaze was unsettling and definitely not what I had expected. A pair of amber eyes, projecting a hint of both yellow and copper and shielded by extraordinarily thick black lashes held me prisoner.
All at once I could feel my palms begin to sweat as my stomach rolled and a thundering roar filled my ears, completely silencing the raucous ocean. Anger bubbled out of the woman and it was as if I could feel her thoughts painfully shoving their way into my head.
Reality felt like an ugly pinch as it dawned on me that this was not the look of a normal woman in mourning, but perhaps a supernatural creature saturated by some crazy fury. Even with my newly emerging magical powers, I could not figure out why she was directing her anger my way. Her lone tear seemed more an expression of annoyance than an emotional release. The longer she looked at me, the more her copper irises glowed and the more ill at ease I became. I mentally shoved back refusing to let her fierce thoughts intrude into my brain.
Who the heck was this dark diva and what was she doing on my beach? And why did I have the ominous feeling that she brought a whole lot of danger to our quaint seaside town of New Moon Beach? A chill ran down my back causing me to consider what other dark magic she may have sent my way. Was she alone or attached to something or someone far worse?
CHAPTER ONE
“I have no idea who she was,” I said to Miami as I filled a brown pottery mug with hot French Vanilla coffee and passed it to my co-worker. “I was just minding my own business, walking along the beach like I do every morning. Next thing I know this strange woman is threatening my morning mellow; giving off one weird vibe.”
“Weird vibe like she’s evil or weird vibe like she’s some kind of nut? I mean, who wears a black suit to the beach? I’m a witch and I don’t even do that; unless it’s a bathing suit, of course,” Miami said with a smirk as she blew away puffs of swirling steam from her coffee.
“I’m not sure, but I could swear that before she pushed up those crazy big sunglasses, her eyes were glowing. I could almost see their coppery fire burning through the dark lenses. I can’t tell you for absolute certain, but I’m pretty sure that she’s got some kind of hinky magic attached to her.”
“Hinky magic? Did you just make that word up? What does that even mean? I’ve never heard you use hinky before. In fact, I’ve never even heard of that word - period. And anyway, if you were so suspicious, why didn’t you just stop and talk to her? I mean, couldn’t you have easily checked her out with all of your super witchy powers?” Miami waved her hands in the air as if to make a point.
“Come on Miami, give me a break. You know that this paranormal stuff is all new to me. It’s hinky – creepy, different, strange, like that. Whatever kind of magic that diva was peddling was something I’d never seen before. It’s just not fair. I haven’t been at this long enough to know which kind of magic to embrace and which to fear. In fact, you know that it all kind of scares me.”
Ever since I came to New Moon Beach and was told about my magical abilities, everyone has treated me like some kind of super star witch. But as far as I can tell, I’m what you call a late bloomer when it comes to magic. Despite what the coven members seem to believe, witchcraft is just not something that comes easily to me. Yes, I can sometimes read minds, sometimes sense danger, sometimes see the future; sometimes, sometimes, sometimes. But I can’t do any of those things with any regularity. In short, I sort of suck at magic and it’s really frustrating.
Until I get a better handle on any of my mystical abilities, I think I deserve a little more patience from everyone. They all need to remember that I didn’t grow up in a family with anything paranormal happening in it. I grew up in a private girls’ boarding school thinking that I was just some misfit who didn’t belong anywhere. St. Guinevere’s is a small K-12 academy in Northern California and a posh dumping ground for girls with family money but no family. It’s run by a tight little group of Catholic nuns, most of them well over the age of sixty.
I got dropped off at St. G’s at the age of seven, when my mom died. And, as no one seemed to be able to tell me who my father was, I remained there until I turned eighteen and won a scholarship to Rice University in Houston, Texas. It didn’t dawn on me until I was older that someone, other than my long deceased mother, might have been helping to pay the pricey tuition for St. G’s. But I’ll save that story for later.
The really sad thing is that I never did feel at home at St. Guinevere’s. There was just something way too different about me to ever fit in. As a little girl I was tormented by a bunch of strange and troubling feelings that always seemed to be percolating inside of me. I was often frightened by the quirky dreams I had at night and the strange images I could see that no one else could. And there wasn’t anyone else like me that I could share any of this with.
I hated to walk by the cemetery that was right next to our school. No matter how tightly I closed my eyes, I could still see strange ghost people walking across the grassy yard. If I was really quiet I could hear them as they called out, searching for something or someone they must have lost. It was really scary for a little kid.
Sometimes I’d walk by one of the nuns and I could actually hear her thinking, That is such a strange child. It used to make me cry. But I had no idea why any of that was happening to me and I never could have predicted that I’d find out later that I was a witch!
It would have been nice to know what was really going on and that I had a mother and a father who were both more than familiar with magic. But oh no, nobody let me in on that secret until this year.
It was the unexpected opportunity to buy my own bookstore that actually drew me to New Moon Beach. I am and have always been a lover of books. As a kid I spent hours hiding out within the pages of fantasies and mysteries. I loved stories where characters traveled through paranormal worlds. Tales about strange lands filled with unusual or creepy characters with special powers somehow made me feel normal.
I could envision myself emerging from my wardrobe into the world of Narnia. And I just knew that I could be friends with the teens in Twilight. Without a doubt, Harry Potter and I would have had a thing.
During college, I’d been drawn more to Stephen King and Jeremy Bates. But I also enjoyed a few spicy romance novels. I mean, who wasn’t reading Fifty Shades of Grey?
Since books have been my faithful companions throughout my entire life, it made sense that that I would want to open up my own bookstore once I finished school. But making that actually happen felt like an impossible pipe dream.
I spent my senior year of college working on a thesis on the development of a small business. Of course, I chose a book shop as my proposed enterprise. And over the year I used every opportunity to learn more about how to grow a business. My professors were pivotal in introducing me to the right people and I gathered a portfolio of facts, wrote an A-one thesis paper and earned a few important professional acquaintances along the way.
I’m not sure what made me even look through the Houston Chronicle ads that Saturday morning. But once I’d seen the advertisement, I couldn’t seem to shake it out of my head. I’d just graduated from Rice and after reading about a store for sale in California, I wondered if I had the guts to travel all the way from Houston by myself to check this shop out? And, even if I did, would I be able to secure a small business loan to make it happen?
I got one of those quirky feelings in my stomach, like this empty little shop was calling out to me. And before giving in to any of my fears, I’d packed my old VW full of my meager belongings, cashed in my small savings account and mapped out my trip to California.
The ad had been short and sweet - a small beach shop now available for sale. It appeared to be just the right size and the location was amazing. I worried that it was too good to be true. I was sure that there must be an error because the price was so low. But when I called, the old lady on the phone had assured me that the price was correct.
Funny thing - and I know that this may sound dumb to you - but it almost felt like the owner had been waiting for my call. So off I went and much to my surprise, the shop was soon mine. The bank agreed to my loan telling me that they’re in the business of supporting young entrepreneurs. Was I lucky or what?
The day after I moved to New Moon Beach and into my apartment above the bookstore, a man showed up at my door claiming to be my father. He said that his name was Alistair Merriman and that he had only recently found out about my existence. Apparently, about twenty years ago, he and my mother had a thing together and I was the result. And after recently learning about me, he had come to meet me, complete with as many questions as I had.
Alistair Merriman didn’t appear to be a kook. I mean, I didn’t get any of my strange warning vibes off of him and there was something especially kind about his eyes. So I let him in and we talked for over two hours. Apparently Sister Madelyn had recently made her way to Alistair’s door. An old woman by now, she told him that she had been plagued with guilt for not disclosing my existence to him earlier. She explained that she had made a promise to my mother, a burdensome promise that she no longer wished to carry. And so began his search for me. Imagine his surprise to find me just a few miles away.
Alistair told me all about himself and his family. He apologized over and over again for not knowing about me sooner. Either he is a really good actor or he really meant it. I wasn’t sure, but I guess I secretly hoped just a little bit that he meant it. He never did say much about my mother. I presumed he was saving that for later, once he felt more comfortable with me.
Within a week I was shocked to find out that I had three half sisters, a stepmother and a slew of other soon-to-be-met relatives. I’ve got to tell you that I was more than a little surprised when the entire family made it clear that they were happy and committed to taking me into their flock. I was torn between letting fear rule me and rejecting the one thing I had always wanted (a family) or believing in them and accepting the enticing kinship that was being offered. Dangling the possibility of having a family was just too tempting so I agreed to get to know the Merriman tribe.
The whole witch revelation has been a complete shock to me. I had no idea I was a witch like my sisters Olivia, Constance and Harmony. In fact, I had no idea that I had any sisters or that they could be witches too. I didn’t even really know what it meant to be a witch. I still can’t help but wonder when I’m going to start cackling or feel the urge to ride a broom? I check my face numerous times a day to make sure that no warts have suddenly popped up on my chin or nose. And I can assure you that my father and his connection to the world of magic have been a total surprise to me.
I now have a demanding business that I love, a family I hadn’t known I had and freakish magical powers that keep erupting and scare the death out of me. That’s an awful lot for an orphan from San Fran to get used to all at once. I wonder what the nuns would think of all of this.
So anyway, maybe now you can understand why I use the word hinky to describe the kind of strange magic that weird woman on the beach was using and why I wasn’t sure how to handle it. The charmed world is just so very new to me. And even though I may have a bunch of intermittent powers that seem to be getting stronger, I’m not able to fully access or control any of them with any regularity as yet. Everyone expects me to perform like a star witch and I’m still in a slow burn learning mode. It gets tiresome having to come up with excuses to explain to disappointed friends and family about my lack of mystical polish. Or maybe it’s just that I’m disappointed with myself for not catching on faster. I mean I was always a pretty good student, but this magic stuff has really unsettled my psyche!
Looking back at Miami I realized that I’d gotten temporarily lost in my own head and plugged back into our conversation.
“Even though the woman looked kind of scary, I actually would have talked to her, but I got distracted when some idiot bounced his car up onto the curb right next to me. I really think that drivers around here have gotten scary. This guy just ran his car right up onto the curb and then jumped out and looked at me as if I’d done it!”
“Did you?” asked Miami.
“What? No! I don’t think so. Why would I do that? In all of the confusion the mysterious chick just up and disappeared. I never did get a chance to confirm who or what she was. And to make matters worse, the driver kept whining on and on about his car being possessed. Anyway, there’s nothing more that I can do about her right now and we’ve got a ton of books to unload this morning if we’re ever going to get them up onto the shelves.”
“Yes, boss,” Miami said dramatically as she drained her coffee, rinsed the cup in the sink and slowly trudged off to open the dozen or so boxes that are stuffed with new inventory and awaiting our attention. Miami can be so dramatic when she wants to.
I really did need to help Miami with the boxes, but the rumbling in my stomach had me longing for a cinnamon roll or two from Gino’s Bakery. The smell of sinfully delicious baked goods had been creeping over here all morning and I just couldn’t resist it any longer.
This is a common occurrence since my shop is just five doors down from Gino’s and I am a staunch sugarholic. I constantly have to fight the urge to dive into chocolate, cinnamon or caramel treats and Gino’s is the best way to appease any sugar cravings.
“I’ll be back in five,” I called out to Miami. “Go ahead and get started on the boxes while I go and get us some treats.”
Not waiting to hear her response I nipped over to Gino’s Bakery and walked into the middle of one very disturbing conversation. If the bakery hadn’t smelled so darn good and I wasn’t so hungry, I would have turned right around and left. After all, who wants to hear this kind of news after the bizarre morning I’ve already had?
A young police officer was standing at the bakery counter talking loudly; clearly trying to sound important and make points with Angelica, Gino’s daughter. I assume the officer thought sharing inside info on a breaking police story was the way to her heart.
“They found him at the base of the cliffs and his body was a battered, bloody mess,” he said with his hands resting impressively on his gun belt.
“Was he already dead?” Angelica asked timidly, her dark brown eyes appearing more than a little troubled.
“Yes ma’am. No one could survive that fall. He was dead alright — dead as a door nail. Some surfer found his body all broken up on the rocks. The dead guy’s head was all beat up. We’ve got guys out there now scouring the area for details. I guess the kid used his cell phone to call us. He was really freaked out; threw up all over himself. ”
“Yuck,” Angelica said with a sigh as she noticed my arrival for the first time. “Oh, Hi Mae, this is Officer Tim Tyler. He’s new to the New Moon Beach PD. Right Tim?”
“Yes ma’am,” he said with a proud smile that shows off some amazing movie star quality orthodontia. I wonder if he was born with those beauties or if he just had a good dentist he could recommend. I’ve always been embarrassed by my crooked teeth and want to pop for some braces as soon as I’m financially able to.
“Tim was just telling me a gruesome story about what happened down off the cliffs. I need to go to the back for a minute, Mae can you keep him company while I grab his donuts?” Angelica wiped her hands on her apron and mumbled, “I really hope this murder doesn’t affect my business.”
Angelica excused herself and I noticed that her face was pale, her eyes were watering and I swear I could hear her stomach churning. Clearly she was having some kind of physical reaction to the cop’s storytelling.
Remembering my manners, I reached out to shake the officer’s hand, saying, “Hi Tim, I’m Mae Masters. I own the Literally Magic Book Store just down the street. Um, did I hear you say that someone was killed?”
Before I can remove my hand, a prickle of annoyance shoots through Tim’s fingers and transfers to mine in the form of an electrical current. Damn, I hate when that happens. Clearly I have pushed one of Tim’s buttons and he’s unconsciously telling me to back off. At least that’s what I think the blast means.
Apparently unaware of the shock he had just inflicted on me, the young officer straightened his back and responded, “No ma’am, I did not say that. I said that a man was found dead at the base of the New Moon Beach cliffs. We don’t know if there is any foul play involved; the investigation has just begun. Could have been murder, an accident or even suicide; we just don’t know at this time. The victim was fully clothed, wearing what looked to be business attire; nothing else special about him that we can determine as yet.”
“He must have been on his way to work, don’t you think? I mean, who goes to the beach in a suit?” I said, suddenly remembering the black diva. I willed thoughts of her out of my head and asked, “When did it happen?”
“I was first on the scene at approximately six a.m. this morning. A surfer found him some time earlier. Dude told me that he didn’t see or hear anything; just walked out of the water and stumbled upon the body.”
“What a way to start a morning! Did anyone recognize the dead guy?” Angelica asked as she returned sipping water from a Dixie cup and looking a bit less pale.
“As I said before, we are still investigating. I really shouldn’t have shared so much with you two. Do me a favor and keep this to yourselves until the department makes an official statement, okay? I’ve got to get back to the station pronto,” Tim said rather nervously as he checked the time on his watch. “Thanks for the donuts, Angelica. The guys will love them.”
“You’re welcome,” Angelica said, beaming before turning to me. “The new guy at the station always gets stuck bringing donuts to his team. I felt sorry for him and threw in a couple cinnamon rolls too. He’s kind of cute, don’t you think? A little geeky, but still pretty cute,” Angelica said sweetly as she watched Tim slide his long legs back into his patrol car.
“I guess.” I’m not sure what Angelica sees in him, but the straight laced Officer Tim Tyler type is definitely not my cup of tea. This might surprise you, but I go for the more free spirited, live and let live kind of man.
“That was one ugly story he was telling you. Kind of gave me the willies! I haven’t lived here that long; does this kind of thing happen often around here?”
Angelica made a face and said, “No, uh-uh. No way! I can’t remember anything like this ever happening here. Dead bodies and New Moon Beach do not go together; at least not as far as I know.”
“I’m glad to hear that, but now that he’s got my curiosity revved up would you please call me if you hear anything else? I’ve got to get back to the shop. Miami is going to kill me for leaving her with a ton of work. Oops, probably a poor choice of words,” I said with a nervous smile.
“You think?”
“What I do think, Angelica, is that you have an admirer. Something tells me that Officer Tim will be making a regular pit stop here to see more of you and your cinnamon rolls. Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Do you have any of those cinnamon rolls left? I know that Miami would just love one and, um, so would I.”
“Sure, give me a minute,” Angelica said as she closed the donut display case, still thinking out loud.
“What a sad day. I keep trying to figure out who the dead guy might be. Was he married…have kids? Tim didn’t really give us much info about what the man looked like. Just went on and on about the blood and his neck and…” I lost the rest of her words as she scurried off in search of my desired rolls.
Returning moments later and handing me a little white bag with a gold Gino’s Bakery stamp on it, Angelica continued, “This whole murder thing really creeps me out. I wonder if we have a killer living in New Moon Beach and I wonder if we know him… or her?” she said with a nervous giggle.
“Guess we’ll have to wait and see,” I said as I hurried, bag in hand, back to my store. A murderer here in New Moon Beach? What next? This whole morning was giving me a headache. First the weird visitor and now a dead body. I wonder if my dark diva and the dead man have anything in common. Oh man, I can have such a wild imagination when left to my own machinations.