Don't Stop Believing Read online

  Contents

  Introduction

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  Also by Eve Langlais

  Copyright © 2020/2021, Eve Langlais

  Cover Art Dreams2Media © 2020/2021

  Produced in Canada

  Published by Eve Langlais ~ www.EveLanglais.com

  eBook ISBN: 9781 177 384 182 3

  Print ISBN: 978 177 384 183 0

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  This is a work of fiction and the characters, events and dialogue found within the story are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, either living or deceased, is completely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to digital copying, file sharing, audio recording, email, photocopying, and printing without permission in writing from the author.

  Introduction

  The weirdest thing about my life isn’t the fact my cat started talking to me.

  * * *

  I had it all. Awesome, blossoming business. A cute boyfriend who gave me butterflies. My kids living at home and reconnecting with me. Plus, I was a witch. There, I said it out loud. I’m a sorceress who can do magic.

  Not bad for a woman my age. I should have known better to get so cocky.

  The other shoe dropped, bounced, and hit me in the face, then bounced again and whacked me in the shin. It proceeded to ricochet once more and—

  What should have been the most amazing night turns into a disaster. I’m crushed, in more ways than one.

  When I recover, it’s to find my reality has shifted. My cat can speak. Some of the townsfolk appear to be possessed by demons, and I’m supposed to be sacrificed to free magic.

  Seriously? I just wanted my damned happily ever after.

  And I will fight to get it.

  #PWF

  For more info and books see, EveLanglais.com

  Prologue

  The beast was dead. Not really a surprise given the aquatic monster had outlived its purpose. The creature, named Maddy by the humans, had fought long and hard against their dominion. It took years after its capture before it did their bidding and helped them retrieve the muddy remains of the source. Hard to believe the sludge that Maddy guarded inside her underwater cave was part of the key to unlocking the magic they’d lost.

  They dredged everything they could from the lake, down to the smallest speck. Packaged hundreds of bottles bearing the inert source.

  Not long now. The bottles had been distributed to the new residents expanding the town of Cambden and its surrounding areas. A grubby hamlet that didn’t come close to resembling the grand cities of old that they’d once ruled. They’d gone from royalty to paupers, but their time was about to come again.

  Leviathan regarded the body at his feet. Dead because it failed him. Jude—a human suit he’d worn from time to time—had outlived his use.

  A good thing he always had a few spare vessels to jump into. He kicked the body into the water lapping at the interior pier. He didn’t worry about it being found given the rapacious fish he’d seeded in the water. Always hungry for fresh meat.

  As Leviathan strode from the loading dock, now silent with the machines turned off, he noticed with satisfaction that they’d finished ahead of schedule. Now he only had to play his repulsive part, and then he’d be the one to lead them into the new world.

  The one to wield the most magic.

  As he entered the reception area, his gaze tracked directly to those passing through. His stride quickened, though not as long as he liked. The vessel he’d taken over was not to his usual standards; however, it suited his purpose for the moment. Especially once he made some subtle modifications.

  Leviathan smirked at the other princes, only eleven left of the original seventeen who fled death in their world. With little time to scout, and the planets ill aligned, they’d had to settle for Earth, a place with suitable hosts for their consciousness, if lacking in magic.

  “Are you working together to wrest control from me?” He was only half mocking. He’d not made it to this point by underestimating his competition.

  “If you want to drive, then go ahead. The end result will be the same. Magic for all,” Soneillon pointed out.

  Leviathan snorted. “You would be blasé, given my sources say you’ve been working on the witch’s daughter.”

  The prince shrugged. “You failed. Time for someone else to have a turn.”

  “I had her,” he argued. As Jude, he had fucked the daughter then thought he could make the act with the mother more palatable by inviting her to join them.

  “And then lost her,” Astaroth said with a laugh. “What is the delay? Does the body you chose to use have issues?”

  “My cock works just fine. It’s her. The witch.” He grimaced.

  “If it’s so repugnant then, move aside for someone else,” Astaroth suggested.

  “Like you? Is there anything you won’t fornicate with?” Leviathan growled, growing tired of the deal he’d made with the other remaining royals. This uneasy alliance was only born out of necessity. Centuries of seeking the source and seeing themselves dwindle in number. And then finally the clue that changed everything.

  A lake hiding a lost treasure guarded by a formidable witch.

  But they had time to get past her defenses and tame the beast guarding it. The alignment they’d been waiting for was moments away. Soon, they would take back their power.

  And then Leviathan would kill everyone, so he didn’t have to share it.

  1

  Not long after Christmas, I had the lake monster dream. A thing I used to dread. Now, it saddened me. Maddy, the creature people claimed lived in Cambden’s lake, was gone.

  The pebbled beach marching into the water held no ominous shade or shape. No unusual humps or ripples marred the surface of the lake. No more nuclear glowing either.

  The monster had passed away, and I missed it. I woke sniffling. Sad.

  What is wrong with me? Why would anyone miss the terror that Maddy used to bring? I mean the darned thing used to eat me practically each time I closed my eyes.

  Except in my last dream of Maddy, when the beast looked sick and dying. Had my subconscious killed my imaginary beast? Perhaps it was a symbolic thing that had to do with my burgeoning sense of self-empowerment. I’d transformed from a housewife and a doormat. Gotten out of a toxic relationship with a man who despised me.

  And I mean despise.

  Martin had set my house on fire. With me in it. That kind of left a bitter taste in my mouth, which often flipped into the sour flavor of guilt because I’d yet to give a damn he’d died.

  Martin had turned into a mean old man, and I was glad he was gone. Life was better than I
could remember. I greeted the day now instead of dreading it.

  With that thought, I sprang out of bed, delighted to find the sheets dry. No menopausal sweats in the middle of the night where I was stripping the bed and taking a cold shower. Twice in the last week it happened. Nothing during the day yet. I assumed it was coming and wondered if they had a Jaws-like theme song for the menopause symptoms that liked to pounce at inconvenient times. Although I was digging the silver in my hair. I thought of it as natural highlights.

  Joints popped as I stretched, and I jiggled a bit more than a person should as I made my bed. A new thing I’d started doing. I’d spent most of my adult life, say from when I moved out of my grandma’s house until recently, leaving it a mess. Then I discovered the joys of climbing into a neatly made bed. Every morning I now yanked up the sheets and comforter, fluffed my pillow on top, tucked my jammies under it, then walked in my underwear into the bathroom.

  Naked and super self-conscious despite being alone. However, a book I’d been reading said feeling more confident meant accepting myself as I was. The whole love-yourself thing, which took effort.

  What helped give me a boost was knowing I had a busy day ahead at my store. People on their holiday breaks between Christmas and New Year would be out spending, looking for Boxing Day—now weeklong—deals. I’d printed out some new signs to put in my store overnight.

  In the bathroom, I stepped on the scale and blinked at the digital display of a number I’d not seen since my first pregnancy.

  My lower lip wobbled. With happiness. It felt good to reach a goal I’d set for myself. Yay for me!

  I showered, and blow-dried my silver-streaked hair as I readied for work. Some people might hate their jobs, but I loved mine. There was something exciting about going out in the world and doing something. Supporting myself. Providing to society. Hell, I had to pay taxes! Which some might complain about but to me was a sign of how far I’d come. I didn’t depend on anyone.

  I was in charge of me.

  Booyah.

  Spirits high, I skipped down the stairs, now wider than before. The house had changed to suit me. Although why I’d need a wide set of stairs when it was just me using them was baffling.

  Wait. Was my house trying to tell me something?

  Things with my kind-of-boyfriend Darryl were heating up. He’d kissed me again when he came by last night with his dog, Herbie, and a fistful of flowers offered with a grin. I might have smiled just as stupidly back before I got slobbered on by the biggest puppy you ever saw.

  I laughed like a fiend as Darryl swore, “For fuck’s sake, you mangy mutt. Get off her.”

  The commotion brought Winnie, my daughter, who declared the dog her new best friend and then kidnapped him for a walk.

  I wondered if Darryl had planned for that to happen since it would give us alone time. After all, his excuse to visit me was pretty flimsy. He claimed it was to show me some stuff he’d found to put up for sale in my shop. He could have just dropped the goods off when I was at work, but instead he came knocking on my door.

  He didn’t stay long and apologized profusely while collecting his dog from Winnie, who’d had the misfortune of bumping into our grumpy neighbor, Jace. Darryl promised he’d see me soon.

  I couldn’t wait. I’d been smiling so much lately my cheeks hurt. This was happiness.

  My life was a box of chocolates with each flavor a day that became my new favorite one. My enjoyment was marred only by a foreboding that something wicked was coming to run me over.

  Dun. Dun. Dun.

  Could anyone else hear the ominous music playing? Why couldn’t I enjoy the moment? Seize the day? Why did I have to constantly think negatively? Did I want the drama?

  As I hit the main floor of my cottage—that was sliding into a mid-sized house—it was to see my son at the sink, rinsing his dishes—not something he’d ever done when he lived at home. But it appeared moving out on his own gave him a better appreciation of the kind of help I’d hoped for when we all lived together.

  At times, I felt bad at how often I got mad at my kids. Getting caught up in stupid shit that had no importance, like wanting them to clean their rooms, stack the dirty stuff inside the dishwasher, put their laundry away. And my biggest peeve, shoes and socks all over the front hall.

  Now some would say that yelling paid off because look at my kids now. They might be living with me at the moment, but they were model roommates. However, new me, wiser me, wished I’d shown more patience. I loved my kids but didn’t always express it in the best ways. My personal misery led to me sharing it. In hindsight, I could see the despair in my actions. For a while, I’d forgotten how to look for the joy.

  But I was learning. Every day I got a little better at it. The biggest thing I’d learned? Start your day with a bright disposition.

  “Morning, fruit of my loins,” I chirped as I sailed into the kitchen.

  My son cast me a glance behind a thick hank of hair. He’d let it grow out, along with a beard. My baby boy sported a scruffy jaw. “You’re in a good mood.”

  “It’s a beautiful morning.” Spoken by someone who’d yet to set foot outside.

  Geoff glanced at the window. “It’s overcast, and the forecast is saying to expect a few inches of snow.”

  “Then it’s a good day for you to game with your friends,” I announced. When he was a teen, I worried about him playing them too much and yet set no limit on television watching. I saw no harm in the fake drama on screen. Back then, video games were the rock and roll of that generation, ruining kids.

  And then I discovered the joy of apps on my phone. Why had I ever limited him? I now understood the calming nature of an electronic game. I’d been Candy Crush-ing enough I was level 705.

  “Gaming requires a computer or, at the very least, a television not built in the 1980s and a video game console, Mom,” he said with amusement.

  I glanced around at my house and sent it a thought. You heard that. I don’t suppose you can conjure those up?

  The house didn’t exactly reply. It never spoke per se, but it did provide. Be jealous. I had a magical home that just wanted to please, and it dusted!

  “I might just be able to wrangle something for you,” I said aloud. If the house couldn’t do it, then maybe I could buy something in town.

  His brows rose. “Don’t tell me you’ve got an Atari kicking around?”

  “You better hope not, because I will challenge you to a game of Pong and kick your butt.” I did a little victory move that had him snorting.

  “You are so weird.”

  It melted my heart to hear him say that because when he was young, he used to say that when I’d do silly things to make him smile.

  “Not as weird as you,” I chanted in reply with a wink.

  “You off to the shop today?”

  I nodded. He’d tried to help out the first day, but selling antiques just didn’t have the same appeal to him as it did for me. He’d nodded off to sleep and had almost fallen off the stool behind the counter.

  “What time you finishing? I’ll make dinner.”

  I wasn’t about to say no. “Five-ish?” I said. With it being winter and dark early, the store traffic dried up quick late afternoon. Which reminded me. “I’ll have to take a rain check. I told Trish I’d meet her at the diner.”

  “Then it’s time to test your local pizza delivery.” He rubbed his hands together.

  I laughed. “That is way too much excitement for cheese on a flat bread.”

  “I’ve seen you with steak. Don’t talk.”

  “Don’t talk smack about a nice bacon-wrapped six-ounce tenderloin.” I just about drooled.

  “Give me a fatty rib eye and a baked potato.”

  “Mmm. Rib eye.” I wasn’t picky about my meat. Bring the meat. I’d eat all the meat.

  I might have said that out loud, because my son cleared his throat. “Are you hungry or something?”

  “Nope. A coffee is all I need.” I prepped my tr
avel mug and saluted him as I headed for the door. My stockinged feet slid over the circle and symbols etched into the varnished planks. Not just any circle. A magical one that my blood could activate. I’d killed a demon with it.

  I think.

  With no evidence of the death, I sometimes wondered if I’d dreamed it.

  The house shivered. It didn’t like it when I doubted. I could feel its frustration.

  Then I was discomfited because you’re not supposed to feel your house. Just like houses aren’t supposed to widen stairs, add basements, or suddenly transform a shed into a garage. Yet my house did all that and more.

  The town was right when it claimed my family were witches. Although I wasn’t too sure if I counted given most of the magic I’d done came about by accident. I had no idea how I did stuff. There was no one to teach me except for an arrogant prick trying to get in my pants and an old book left to me by my grandma. I’d not had much time to read what with my new social life, job, and hobbies. Why care about magic when I had everything I needed?

  Except apparently a doorbell. I opened the door, juggling one arm into my coat, hovering the coffee while the other arm sought out the sleeve. My left foot was halfway in my boot because something was stuffed in the toe. I didn’t even notice the box.

  I fell over it, smacking my chin, clacking my teeth, watering my eyes, but the biggest tragedy? My morning ambrosia. Gone. I almost cried at the loss.

  “What the ever-loving fuck? Why put a package so close to the door?” My new potty mouth exclaimed before I could stop it.