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    Charred Cauldron
    Charred Cauldron
    Charred Cauldron
    Ebook117 pages1 hour

    Charred Cauldron

    By Sandra Maue

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    About this ebook

    Witch Chloe Burdale` has hunted rogue witches for C.A.L.D.R.E.N. for two years using her special ability to track any witch. But, she's had enough of all the pain and solitude. Chole gave her notice.

    On Halloween night, her first night off in months, Chloe's party plans are delayed when her boss pulls her into headquarters for a special assignment. A member of her own family is accused as a rogue witch and Chloe is the only operative who can get close enough to investigate.

    The intrigues that unravel threaten the Enchanted community and shake Chloe to her core. She must align herself with someone she never trusted, and a group of strangers in a plan that could cost her life.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSandra Maue
    Release dateAug 29, 2018
    ISBN9781386494577
    Charred Cauldron

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      Book preview

      Charred Cauldron - Sandra Maue

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHLOE BURDALE TURNED in a slow circle to check her appearance in the oval, full-length mirror. The jagged scar that ran across her back from shoulder to waist was well concealed by her dress.

      The long, black robe of her costume kept her quite toasty. But, it was unseasonably warm for this time of year, so she wanted to be able to remove the cloak if need be.

      The edges of her mirror lightened and began to glow blue, but she was not talking to her boss tonight. Chloe waved her hand and a heavy material covered the entire mirror.

      She narrowed her eyes. You must be joking, Alastar. I am not taking an assignment tonight. A bubble of annoyance bounced off the last word.

      She was going to the schmooziest Halloween costume party in three states. She planned on getting drunk, getting laid, and dancing, not necessarily in that order.

      She retrieved her cloak from the bed and grabbed the all-too authentic, but very dull scythe and turned to find a scroll of ivory parchment wrapped with a black ribbon floating before her eyes.

      Well shit. I said no.

      She stepped around the scroll and moved toward the door. The persistent parchment whizzed around her head like a bee. It hovered steadily in the air, the bow loops of the ribbon flapped once, then stared her down.

      She stepped to the left, but the parchment zipped over to block her.

      She stepped to the right and was blocked again.

      She twisted the handle of the scythe and swatted the damn thing out of the air with the blade. The parchment smacked against the wall and fell to the floor.

      Chloe threw it a curt nod as her hand wrapped around the doorknob, but before she could give it a turn, the parchment zipped up and swatted her on the nose, like a bad puppy. The offensive scroll tipped forward, the black ribbon now fire engine red, as if returning her nod.

      Why you little… She snatched the scroll out of the air, which was her mistake.

      The walls of her bedroom melted like hot wax, as the cloak flowed from her arm to the floor and the scythe slipped from her grasp. Differing colors flashed and swirled around her. She felt disjointed, stretched, and couldn’t seem to pull any air into her lungs. As suddenly as it started, all movement stopped.

      It took her a second to get her bearings. Her shoulders fell and her head dropped forward when she realized she stood in the hallway of C.A.L.D.R.E.N. headquarters staring at the drab green door to Alastar’s office.

      The day Alastar Jordaines darkened her threshold she should have slammed the door and locked it.

      Chloe had a nice, quiet, unexciting life. Her shop, Sage and Salt, provided her with a comfortable living, along with a good clientele base for the occasional little side job. She had friends, a nice living space above the shop, and no scars. She had been content. Until the day she met Alastar.

      Most witches are capable of recognizing another magic user, but only when in their company. Chloe had the unique gift of being able to track a witch from anywhere. And, that is what drew Alastar’s attention.

      A very dark day in her short life, though at the time, she didn’t realize the consequences of joining Alastar’s elite group, the Constabulary Action League for Defense Regarding the Enchanted Nation, or C.A.L.D.R.E.N. And she was its top operative, at least according to Alastar. Damn it.

      The history of witch persecution surrounds the existence of their kind with a dark aura. Though they are more widely accepted in contemporary times, there are still those small-minded people who believe all witches are devil worshipers and only do evil.

      There are witches who practice the darker arts, but they are limited  in their practice and monitored closely by the High Council as are all witches, from any practice.

      Unfortunately, any witch, from a Green witch to a Traditional witch, can go off the broom, or rogue, either by choice or due to extenuating circumstances. It has taken centuries for nonmagical humans to view witches in a more positive light and to allow magical practitioners to come out of hiding.

      It’s bad PR for the enchanted community when a witch goes off the broom and so an organization was created to protect all beings and promote goodwill between humans and magic users.

      Chloe’s job was to find and procure any rogue witch by any means necessary.

      Finding them wasn’t so difficult. Procuring them, on the other hand was where all the blasted excitement came in.

      There are only two  ways  of  neutralizing  a  rogue  witch.  They  can surrender and present themselves to the High Counsel for disenchantment, after which they are placed into mainstream society to conclude their life as a lesser human.

      She’d heard it was like living as a bird with its wings removed, or a fish with no fins. All disenchanted witches ended themselves within a year, with the exception of one.

      The other option was to take the witch by force. If the rogue wasn’t  on the ground presenting Chloe their wand, hat, and broom within 30 seconds, she pounded them with spells like hammer blows until they submitted, or there was nothing left but a puddle of goo. She’d learned that lesson the hard way.

      This job had not won her any friends and encouraged enemies.

      One by one, her chums had distanced themselves from her. Not that she blamed them. Her reputation within the enchanted community had grown to one of fear and avoidance. Like Internal Affairs for the human police. Though C.A.L.D.R.E.N.’s existence was necessary, Chloe did not enjoy the status of the person others crossed the street to avoid—which happened more and more.

      Unfortunately, the hype of doing the greater good leaves no room  to prepare an operative for the consequences of loneliness and guilt. Consequences Chloe could no longer live with and had taken steps to remedy.

      That she would no longer have to deal with the pedantic Alastar was definitely a bonus. Though there were other procurers, the head of C.A.L.D.R.E.N. erringly believed Chloe was at his beck and call.

      Chloe straightened. Deep-seated anger seasoned with resentment flowed within her.

      He had no right to take her whole life. It was situations like this which, ultimately, influenced her decision to leave C.A.L.D.R.E.N. She had two weeks left on her six-month notice. You’d think Alastar could let her ease into a quieter life. But no, he had to pull her in, kicking and screaming.

      Well, no reason not to give him what he wanted. What was he going to do, fire her? He hadn’t so far and Chloe had made a valiant effort in achieving that goal. So far, she’d been unsuccessful in pissing him off enough to fire her. Maybe this time…

      Chloe crumpled the assignment sheet into a ball, weaving in a little whammy, to give it the consistency of a snowball with a rock core. She opened the door and zinged it across the desk at Alastar. With true aim, it hit the bullseye.

      Ow. Alastar’s hand flew up to his roguishly handsome face. What the hell, Chloe? He rubbed his nose, blinking away tears.

      You promised me the night off. I have been working nonstop for the past six months.

      I know. He pulled a handkerchief from his breast, vest pocket and dabbed at his face and nose. He examined the cloth. Upon finding no blood, he meticulously folded the white square into fours. Always impeccably dressed, he replaced it in his vest, fussing with it until it was just so. Only then did he return his attention to Chloe. I’ll make  it up to you, but you are the only one that can handle this assignment. He clasped his hands on his desk.

      You say that with every case you give me. I am not the only procurer on this team.

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