Table of Contents
Books by Melanie James
Copyright
Edition License Note
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty One
Chapter Thirty Two
Chapter Thirty Three
Chapter Thirty Four
Chapter Thirty Five
Chapter Thirty Six
Chapter Thirty Seven
Chapter Thirty Eight
Epilogue
About the Author
Books by Melanie James
Literal Leigh Romance Diaries
Accidental Leigh
Serious Leigh
Hopeful Leigh
Haunting Leigh
Joyful Leigh
Literal Leigh Romance Diaries: Complete Boxed Set
Literal Leigh Spin-offs
Gertie’s Paranormal Plantation
Karma Inc.
Éveiller Drive
Ava & Will
Kara & Dave
Laura & Alan
Jamie & Brad
Ashley & Jeff
Valerie & Greg
Stand Alones
Conjuring Darkness
A Valentine’s Surprise
A Deadly Obsession
Copyright
Karma Inc.
By: Melanie James
Copyright © 2015 by Melanie James
Editing: AVC Proofreading
Proofreading: AVC Proofreading
Proofreading: Book Nook Nuts
Cover Artist: Dreams to Media
ISBN-13: 978-1511667968
ISBN-10: 1511667966
All rights reserved
Published in the United States of America
Edition License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you wish to share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should delete it from your device and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work. Illegal copies come with fine up to $250,000.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.
Acknowledgements
Rebecca — You are the best. Thank you so much for the wonderful designs my books are covered with!
Robyn – I will be forever grateful to you for sending me to Rebecca!
Hollie — SQUEE! I can’t wait for you to breathe life into this book!
Dakota — There are simply not enough tiaras in the world to thank you for sending me to Hollie.
Debby — I love your guts! You have done so much for me in such a short amount of time. I don’t know how I ever lived without you!
Alicia — Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!
Tammy — Thank you for always being in my corner.
Monkeys — I can’t imagine another group that I’d rather have as my own. You all ROCK!
Ron — Thank you for your continual love and support.
Dedication
To Karma:
Be it good or bad, you always seem to be there.
Prologue
Witch’s Union International, London. Special Inquiry Board for Misconduct.
My name is Annabel. I’m a Special Feline Familiar who serves the Supreme Council of Witches. I’m a very British Shorthair. To be honest, if it wasn’t for me these old fools who make up the council wouldn’t be able to find their way out of the bathroom.
A very interesting case came before the Special Inquiry Board recently, and I was fortunate to have been assigned to the hearing as the official recorder. I feel compelled to share the official record for reasons that will be clear later on.
Chapter One
Witches V. Franchetti
“Annabel, what do we have on the docket for today?” Gwendolyn managed to ask me while struggling to get into the high-backed chair that was more ornate than practical for the stubby old witch.
“One apprentice witch from Local 1313. Kelly Franchetti, age twenty-six. From Chicago Illinois. A schoolteacher by trade.”
“Goddess save us. It’s those damn Americans again.” It took Gwendolyn one more wiggle to get situated.
“Let’s move along then. Please make the record show the board consists of Gwendolyn, Poppy, and Francine.” The other two old witches were snoozing away in the chairs adjacent to Gwendolyn’s.
I wrote the information in the blank spaces of the form. “The…usual…horrid…hags.” I noted and replaced the quill in the inkpot. “Done.”
“Annabel, could you show some respect for just one time in your nine lives? Would that be too much to ask?”
“Let me think. Hmm. Yes, it would be too much. Can we get this over with now?”
“Right. Set the mood lighting and summon this witch.”
I dimmed the lights to conceal the identity of the council members before using the intercom to call the waiting room. “Kelly Franchetti, please come before the board.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of this young American. She strutted through the door, with an air of extreme self-confidence. She seemed defiant, and perhaps a little pissed off. Most of the time the witches who are called before the board appear nervous, even frightened. This Kelly Franchetti certainly didn’t fit that bill. Even her choice of clothing reflected her attitude: a short, tight, black dress that hugged her curvy full body. This was a woman filled with pride and spunkiness. I admired her from that moment on. I may have even pumped my paw in the air, subtly of course.
Kelly shook her long blonde hair just a little. Her body language told me she had about as much respect for the council as I did. And that isn’t a whole hell of a lot. It was my opinion this girl had been under the wing of either some very good witches, or she was being set up to take the fall for someone.
“Kelly Franchetti, you…”
Kelly cut me off. “A talking cat? You have got to be kitt-ing me!” She nearly snorted at her own joke. “Get it?”
“Americans…” I mumbled.
“My witch-cat can’t say a word. None of the witch-cats I’ve met can talk.”
“Unlike humans, all cats are not created equal. Among the classes of familiars, British Shorthairs, such as myself, are the elite. We speak the Queen’s English. Unlike those purring domestics you have in the colonies—er, states. Now, let’s get this going, shall we? Right. You have been brought before the Special Inq
uiry Board to determine if you should be charged with the following offenses in the town of Caldron Falls, Wis—cone—sin.”
“Fine. Whatever. The potential charges are these: murder, mayhem, contributing to the delinquency of an imp, practicing black magic, arson, assault, revealing witchcraft to the general public, and consorting with forbidden paranormal creatures. My, you have been a busy witch.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. A girl’s got to have a little fun.”
“Yes...I’ll make a note of that. Do you have a barrister to assist in your defense?” Kelly’s head cocked to the side and her eyes were blank, like she was trying to recall an answer for a crossword puzzle. “Counsel? A lawyer?” I added.
“No, I’m afraid not. I didn’t think I needed one for this kangaroo court.”
“Hmm. While I appreciate your candor, these are very serious charges, potentially. And this court, as kangaroo-like as it may be, has the ability to mete out the most severe of punishments. Unfortunately, the Supreme Council conducts business as if it’s still 1660. That means you’re assumed to be guilty. If you claim to be innocent, you ought to be able to prove it.”
Gwendolyn barked from the shadows. “What are you two jabbering about? Kangaroo court isn’t until next month. Besides, it’s in Australia, New South Wales. Did you read the charges, Annabel?”
“Potential charges. And yes, of course I have,” I groaned. “Go back to sleep, you old bitch.”
“What’s that, Annabel? You did? That’s it then. Mark her down as accused on all counts and we’ll find her guilty.”
“Whatever,” I replied, then turned back to Kelly. “Do you admit you used black magic?”
“Yeah, but…”
The door to the courtroom flew open and Marie Laveau walked in. Her powerful presence could be felt in the air. “Yeah but? This witch is an apprentice. I know this committee wasn’t planning on having a discussion without her mentor present. You know the rules, Gwendolyn.”
“Oh, save your theatrics for Shakespeare, Marie. This witch screwed up and we all know it.”
Marie smiled at me and I, of course, returned her greeting with a polite nod. I had no idea Marie Laveau would be representing this young witch. Marie is a legend in witchcraft circles. She is a master of the noblest and oldest magic known, Voodoo. She is smart, crafty, and benevolent. If only we had some witches like her on the Supreme Council.
Marie leaned in next to Kelly’s ear and her voice dropped to a whisper. I could still pick up on what she said. “Don’t say a word, child. They are only trying to trip you up. Go along with me.”
Marie walked Kelly from the dock to the witness box and had her take a seat. She took a blue glass bottle from the folds of her gold silk robe and a pin from her white turban. “As the Chairman of Witches Union Local 1313, I have the right to practice whatever magic is required to ensure the truth is told here today. This is truth serum. I’ll give her a dose that will put her in a dream state. She will recall every detail.”
Gwendolyn groaned and moaned. But no matter how painful it was for her to sit through this, Marie was absolutely within her rights.
Marie removed the cap from the bottle and turned it upside down on the table. It became a convenient shot glass that she filled immediately. What came next was a bit of a surprise, Marie pricked Kelly’s finger with the pin, adding a single drop of blood to the concoction.
“Drink up, buttercup. It’s time to tell them the truth.”
Kelly drank the shot and within a few minutes, she fell into a trancelike state. I hadn’t seen anything like that since Luna went through an entire quarter pound of catnip at the Witches Ball last Halloween. We all waited quietly until Kelly began to recall her story. She spoke with such detail, using a different voice for each character, making it feel like I was watching a movie.
Chapter Two
Kelly Tells All
“A cozy, romantic dinner. Yeah, right. What a jackass.” My mind was still cluttered with the rubble of a date crushed by disappointment. If you’ve ever walked out on a date who acted like a complete jerk, you know that you’ll experience two major emotions; anger and pride. If you’ve ever had to drive yourself home, those suckers will be egging each other on. You’ll probably start out where you are proud to say how you handled it all, but angry at your date for ruining the evening. Before long, you’ll be downright pissed off and proud enough to wear your anger like a shiny medal. And if you’re anything like me, you’ll be talking out loud while your knuckles turn white from the kung-fu grip you have on the steering wheel. “Who does that fool think he is? He sure as hell doesn’t know he messed with the wrong witch. One of these days, he’ll get what’s coming to him. Maybe today.” The silver lining was that I was so busy being angry, I didn’t have time to feel hurt, or sad, or even lonely.
I traveled an entire three blocks until I had to stop for yet another long red light. I caught a glimpse of something in my rearview mirror. Headlights that seemed to be coming up faster than they should have. “Oh hell. Here we go.” My stomach turned when I felt the jarring hit. Against my better judgment, I threw open the door and sprang out of my car.
“What the hell are you doing?” I was yelling more than asking because I was witnessing an old Dodge sedan backing up. This was a hit and run. “Oh no, you don’t! Get back here!”
I called the police and a patrol stopped by fairly quickly. The officer was cute, but he was dry and professional. “So, where did this car hit yours?”
“Right there.” I pointed to the back bumper that was laying on the street.
“What were you doing when this car allegedly hit you?”
“Seriously? You know, if you hurry, you can probably catch him. You can’t mistake that piece of crap. Busted headlights, red tape for taillight covers, ten thousand stupid bumper stickers plastered all over it, and the body was fifty shades of primer. And you’ll hear it for miles because it’s making a whining noise, like a dozen goats getting castrated with rusty pliers.”
I endured an abnormally long wait while he filled out paperwork, and I made one very frustrating call to my insurance company’s robotic claims number. It was almost funny, dealing with the accident took longer than my date for the evening. Almost. The rest of the way home I stewed silently, lest I somehow invoke more bad luck.
“So glad to see my front door. Eight o’clock on a Saturday night. I should have known. What a waste of time.” My jingling keys set off a chorus of hyperactive Chihuahuas. “Keep your tails on!” I worked the key in the lock and the barking grew more frantic. “It’s just me, babies.” I knelt down as soon as I opened the door. As far as I’m concerned, there is nothing that helps you shake off the lingering misery of a failed date like the welcoming little licks and nuzzles of your dogs. I glanced into the apartment and something didn’t seem right. Something wasn’t right. An intruder alarm went off in my brain, delivering a heart thumping dose of adrenaline. The kitchen lights were on and my refrigerator was open.
“Be careful, Kelly. I’d hate to see you torn to pieces by your own bloodthirsty Lilliputian guard dogs. Where did you find those little things? Did they come with a Happy Meal?” The intruder’s snarky female voice was familiar enough to instantly calm my nerves. Other than little wiggly dogs, seeing one of your best friends is another thing that can clear the date disaster debris out of your head.
“Ha! Esmeralda Warren. Wicked witch of the South. You know, I wouldn’t be so quick to make fun of these pint-sized attack dogs. They weren’t named Lucifer’s Bastard and Lorena Chompit for nothing.” I tossed my keys down and greeted my wiggly little pets. “What brings you to Chicago, Ezzy? I thought you weren’t coming back until the end of the month.”
Esmeralda stood up from behind the kitchen island. A spoon hung from her mouth, and my quart of Cherry Garcia was in her hand. This was the rarely seen, casual Ezzy. Her long red hair had been freed from its tight b
un in favor of a ponytail. Her naughty librarian’s black business suit had been thrown into a heap in the living room and traded for a black stretchy cutoff tank top and panties.
Ezzy slowly slid the spoon out of her mouth and waved it like it was her own silverware magic wand. “Ice cream.” She ate another spoonful. “That’s why I’m here. And some downtime. Believe it or not, being the face of the witches union can be taxing. Ugh. Some days, I think I’ve been typecast as this iron hearted bitch whose vocabulary is limited to caustic utterances of insults and sarcasm.”
“Um, that’s actually a fair description. I was under the impression you relished in your ruthless reputation.”
“Yeah. But it’s not much fun when that’s what people expect. It reduces my well-honed cynical and mocking persona down to some fucking cliché. I don’t want to be a cliché. The fucking…that I’ll take.” Ezzy took one last small spoonful of ice cream. “But mostly, I’m here for the ice cream. Enough about me. Look at you! My senses detect a new dress. You’re looking delicious this evening, but here you are coming home early. Alone. Maybe you should be the one eating ice cream.”