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Good Scrying Gone Bad: Uncollected Anthology, #11
Good Scrying Gone Bad: Uncollected Anthology, #11
Good Scrying Gone Bad: Uncollected Anthology, #11
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Good Scrying Gone Bad: Uncollected Anthology, #11

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The First Rule of Witchcraft: Harm none.

The Second Rule of Witchcraft: Practice magic only when you’re clear of mind.

That includes not practicing magic while drunk.

When drunken scrying goes awry, Madison connects with Brody, a cute guy trapped…somewhere. Freeing him becomes her obsession.

Does the Second Rule of Witchcraft count when it comes to love?

“Good Scrying Gone Bad” is part of Uncollected Anthology, Issue 11: Bewitching Love.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJan 20, 2017
ISBN9781386504078
Good Scrying Gone Bad: Uncollected Anthology, #11
Author

Dayle A. Dermatis

Dayle A. Dermatis is the author or coauthor of many novels (including snarky urban fantasies Ghosted and the forthcoming Shaded and Spectered) and more than a hundred short stories in multiple genres, appearing in such venues as Fiction River, Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine, and DAW Books.Called the mastermind behind the Uncollected Anthology project, she also guest edits anthologies for Fiction River, and her own short fiction has been lauded in many year's best anthologies in erotica, mystery, and horror.She lives in a book- and cat-filled historic English-style cottage in the wild greenscapes of the Pacific Northwest. In her spare time she follows Styx around the country and travels the world, which inspires her writing.To find out where she’s wandered off to (and to get free fiction!), check out DayleDermatis.com and sign up for her newsletter or support her on Patreon.* * *I value honest feedback, and would love to hear your opinion in a review, if you’re so inclined, on your favorite book retailer’s site.* * *For more information:www.dayledermatis.com

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    Book preview

    Good Scrying Gone Bad - Dayle A. Dermatis

    Good Scrying Gone Bad

    Good Scrying Gone Bad

    Dayle Dermatis

    Soul’s Road Press

    Contents

    About This Book

    Good Scrying Gone Bad

    Uncollected Anthology

    Issue 11: Bewitching Love

    About the Author

    Also by Dayle A. Dermatis

    Be the First to Know!

    Written on the Coast

    About This Book

    The First Rule of Witchcraft : Harm none.

    The Second Rule of Witchcraft: Practice magic only when you’re clear of mind.

    That includes not practicing magic while drunk.

    When drunken scrying goes awry, Madison connects with Brody, a cute guy trapped…somewhere. Freeing him becomes her obsession.

    Does the Second Rule of Witchcraft count when it comes to love?


    Good Scrying Gone Bad is part of Uncollected Anthology, Issue 11: Bewitching Love.

    Good Scrying Gone Bad

    The first rule of witchcraft is the one everyone knows: Harm none.

    The second rule of witchcraft should be just as obvious: Practice magic only when you’re clear of mind.

    In my defense, I didn’t realize we were practicing actual magic.

    My cousin Carly and I were cleaning out our grandmother’s house. Grandma Belinda had had her three-story split-level ranch custom-built in the seventies, so although it was reasonably tidy, it was still full of stuff. Every closet, every bureau, every secret room was crammed with decades of memorabilia and tchotchkes and magical paraphernalia—sometimes it was hard to tell those apart—outdated clothing, and more blockbuster paperbacks from the eighties than you could imagine anyone could read in a lifetime.

    All the important things I care about are in storage, Grandma Belinda had said when she charged us with the task.

    What do you want us to do with all of this? Carly has asked.

    Whatever, Grandma Belinda said carelessly, waving her vape cigarette in an expansive gesture. Imagine a cross between Joan Collins and Shirley Maclaine, but someone who could actually turn you into a newt, and you get the picture. Take what you want, sell the rest, or, hell, light a match and walk away. I don't give a shit, really.

    Then she hugged us in a cloud of White Shoulders, kissed each of our foreheads with a resounding smack that left a coral-pink lipstick print, and vanished with a faint pop.

    Grandma Belinda was allegedly off on a cruise to Tahiti. Carly and I weren’t sure if she really was on a cruise to Tahiti or if that was a euphemism for something. Getting plastic surgery done, maybe, or going through a reincarnation.

    It was the end of the first day, and we were making good use of Grandma Belinda’s liquor cabinet. The collection of bottles had been dusty, but it was top shelf stuff, and I had made some wicked Amaretto Sours. I made a mental note to find the recipe for a hangover banishing brew before we went to bed.

    I felt grimy all the way down to my teeth. A shower sounded blissful. Grandma Belinda had smoked most of her life (hence the vapes: her most recent attempt to quit) and even though she’d spelled the smoke away, the odor still clung, faintly, deep down, in her things. I ached in muscles I hadn’t previously been aware of, and I felt fifty instead of twenty-seven.

    I was half-sprawled on a comfortable but hideous blue-with-white-flowers sofa in the den, and Carly was lying

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