Lilly: A Stone Society Novella Read online

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction.

  Copyright © 2022 by Faith Gibson

  Published by: Bramblerose Press LLC

  Editor: Candice Royer, KDL Editing

  First edition: February 2022

  Cover design: Jay Aheer, Simply Defined Art

  Cover photography: Adobe Stock

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Synopsis

  A witch and a pirate walk into a pub…

  Lilly St. James is sunlight and rainbows. By day, she sells her stunning artwork in Jackson Square. By night, she mixes spells and potions for her witchcraft shop, Hexes and Ohs, located in the French Quarter. Lilly’s life hasn’t been the same since she lost her beloved Grams, but she’s doing all right. That is until a local pirate casts a spell on her. Or so she thinks.

  Dominic Dubois is midnight and storms. By day, the Gargoyle leader over the southern states settles disputes and drinks rum. Lots of rum. By night, he flies high about his beloved city of New Orleans, keeping watch over humans and supernaturals alike. For over six hundred years, he has waited for the day a prophecy regarding his mate comes to pass.

  You met Lilly and Dominic in Gregor, Book 2, and enjoyed watching as they became integral in the lives of their Clan. Now, read the story of how they met and came to be one of the biggest super couples in The Stone Society

  Chapter One

  New Orleans

  2047

  “Baxter, drop the rat!” Lilly chased the calico kitten down the hallway. Cats were supposed to be lithe and graceful, not run into everything in their wake. “Giuseppe is not your dinner. If you don’t stop, I’ll zap your ass.” Lilly flicked her wrist, and her silver bangles changed from bracelets to a wand. When she rounded the corner, she slid to a stop so she didn’t squash the feline. Baxter gently placed his owner’s pet rat on the floor, then began cleaning his paw like he hadn’t just about given Lilly a heart attack or completely wrecked two rooms in his quest to get away. She pointed her wand at him anyway, and the cat took off like a shot. “Yeah, you better run, you little monster.” Lilly got down on the floor to look for the rat. Two beady eyes glowed beneath a wingback chair. Knee-crawling, Lilly held out her hand when she was close enough, and Giuseppe scurried onto her palm.

  Crisis averted, although Lilly was pretty sure Baxter wouldn’t actually eat Giuseppe. Glenda Rhodes, Lilly’s next-door neighbor, had several pets other than those two. The woman had fish, two snakes, as well as a tarantula, and Baxter never really bothered any of them, so maybe he was just bored today or missing his person. Whenever Glenda went out of town to visit her daughter, Lilly watched over the menagerie. She also took the opportunity to cleanse the house of bad juju from Glenda’s on-again, off-again boyfriend, Wendell. The man was a mooch, but Glenda always took him back for whatever reason. If Lilly wasn’t afraid of it coming back to her three-fold, she would put a hex on Wendell.

  After making sure Giuseppe was secure in his cage and Baxter couldn’t get to the rat, Lilly retraced her steps and put the rooms back to rights before gathering her supplies. Then she locked up the house and walked next door to her own manor in the Garden District. Before she reached the gate, her phone rang. When she saw who it was, Lilly dropped her head back on her shoulders and stared at the sky. She was a good witch. Really, she was. So why was the goddess punishing her?

  “Lilly St. James,” she answered cheerily. “Hello, Mrs. Grissom. No, of course you’re not calling too late on a weeknight.” Lilly rolled her eyes. “I have just the potion for you. No ma’am, it’s no trouble. I can drop it off at the shop tomorrow. Yes, I know Grams made house calls, but… yes ma’am she mixed yours especially… of course I… Yes ma’am. I’ll get right on that, but I’ll still have to send it to Hexes and Ohs. Now, let me get busy so the ingredients have time to bind. I’ll talk to you later.” Lilly disconnected before the woman could argue any further. Harriet Grissom was older than dirt and one of Grams’s first customers. Grams had gone around to homes when she was first starting out in her craft, and several of her customers expected Lilly to continue the service.

  Being an artist, Lilly split her evenings between painting and mixing potions; therefore, she didn’t have time for house calls. Neither did she have patience for the inevitable questions regarding her love life. Or rather, the lack of one. It wasn’t as if Lilly didn’t want to date, she just hadn’t found a man worth her time or one she didn’t want to put a curse on after the first date like Cameron. Lilly was looking for a man who made her body sing while being a gentleman. She wanted a man who looked at Lilly like she hung the moon while doing his best to lasso the same heavenly body for her. Lilly wanted a man willing to fight her battles while stepping back when she wanted to fight for herself. She didn’t think that was asking too much.

  As Lilly pushed through the gate at the sidewalk, a gentle breeze ruffled her hair. New Orleans was a magical city, but during October? It was as though the town was plugged into a light socket whereas they’d normally use oil lamps. It was Lilly’s favorite time of year. With Halloween only a week away, the town was overrun with tourists who wanted to feel the magic. Lilly thought for a second before waving her hands over the jack-o’-lanterns on her porch. With a flick of her wrist and a thought, the carvings morphed from crescent moons to cats with fluffy tails. With another flick, she lit the candles within. A stronger breeze threatened the flames, but after flickering a few times, they remained lit.

  The hair on Lilly’s arms rose, and she shivered. Not from the chill but from the scent wafting on the air. It was masculine. Enticing. Nauseating. Like a magick spell meant to make you happy laced with something to keep you from fully achieving that joy. Waving her hand, Lilly unlocked the door with a thought and pushed it open. After slamming it closed behind her, she took a deep breath through her mouth so as not to inhale more of that enticing aroma. Lilly had encountered all sorts of mystical beings from witches and wizards to voodoo practitioners and shamans. She had come across spells and wards and hexes, but nothing like what she felt when she inhaled this aroma.

  Lilly headed for the attic, not bothering to stop until she was in the room where Grams had taught her everything. She placed her cleansing supplies on the old table in the corner and went to the lectern where the grimoire was opened to the last page she’d researched. Lilly had been trying to figure out the cause of her troubling breeze for a couple days to no avail. Page after page, Lilly searched until her eyes started to cross.

  The thick grimoire thudded loudly in the otherwise silent room when Lilly closed it. She rubbed her temples, wishing for the thousandth time her grandmother were still alive. If anyone could figure out what was wrong with Lilly, it would be her Grams. Lilly was no stranger to potions and spells. She created many of bot
h to help those who came to the shop on Decatur Street her grandmother had run for over thirty years. When Grams passed away several years ago, Lilly didn’t have the time to take over Hexes and Ohs, so she turned its management over to another witch. Eliore was a blessing, taking on the role of both caretaker for the shop as well as Lilly’s confidant.

  Needing fresh air, Lilly padded across the hardwood attic floor and opened the window that faced the street. Grams had raised Lilly from the time she was six. Her parents were still alive, but when Lilly had shown an affinity for magick, they agreed it was better she live with the woman who could help hone her craft. The manor was now Lilly’s, but it was too large and too empty without her grandmother’s overflowing personality. That was one of the reasons Lilly spent most of her time in the little apartment above her art studio across from Jackson Square. She only returned to the house when she needed to work on potions for the store or to search the massive grimoire for answers.

  As Lilly stared out into the early morning, a dark mass grew closer to the house. She shoved the window closed before the cloud of ashes could make its way inside. If her grandmother were alive, she would have seen a corporeal presence instead of the scattered remnants of what used to be a living being. Since Lilly, unlike Grams, didn’t have the ability to speak with ghosts, all she saw was a small whirlwind of particles. “She’s not here anymore,” Lilly called out to the dust cloud. It continued to swirl in the air outside the house, so Lilly closed the curtains, hoping the lost soul would move on.

  Turning back to the task at hand, Lilly once more flipped through the grimoire, searching for something – anything – that would help with her current predicament. Lilly spent most days selling her artwork at the Square alongside other artists, musicians, and tarot readers. A strangeness had been floating on the air for several days. It wasn’t the sounds of Jazz playing in the background. Nor the tourists milling around Jackson Square. Nor the myriad of smells that wafted around her. No, it was a feeling. One that she couldn’t put her finger on. It wasn’t wrong per se, just different. As though an unknown force was moving around, close enough to be felt but not seen. It was nothing she’d ever encountered before, and since she couldn’t find anything in the large tome, it was nothing Grams had encountered either.

  Giving up for the moment, Lilly retreated downstairs and exited out the back door to the small seating area in the garden. That familiar scent caught Lilly’s attention, and she scanned the area, searching for the cause, doing her best not to inhale too deeply. She was too late, though, as her stomach churned. That was the part that had her spooked. How could something so delicious have her clutching her stomach? Lilly rushed back inside, slamming the door behind her. She leaned against it and swallowed hard. When that didn’t help, she thought a cup of tea might. Instead of zapping water in the microwave, Lilly put the kettle on. The same kettle her grandmother had used for many years. Simple things like heating water on the stove kept her grandmother close.

  “I’m still with you,” Grams echoed back, only Lilly knew it was her mind pretending. Offering comfort when there was none. Even Grams’s beloved cat, Jinkies, had followed in death soon after Grams passed, leaving Lilly truly alone.

  Once the tea had somewhat settled her stomach, Lilly showered and dressed. She locked up the house, then made her way across town to her art studio. She had a commissioned piece in need of finishing, and locking herself in the manor’s attic wouldn’t get the job done. Lilly parked in the paid lot on Decatur instead of taking one of the closer metered spots. She didn’t mind the walk, especially when it was so early, and she had the streets mostly to herself.

  Instead of a security alarm, Lilly set wards around the front and back doors. The back of the shop led to a small enclosure. For someone to come in Lilly’s back door, they would have to climb down from the roof. Still, she warded the back same as she did the front. Once inside, she locked the door behind her and headed upstairs. Lilly grabbed a handful of peanut M&Ms from the bowl on the kitchen table before walking down the hallway to her studio.

  She studied the canvas, searching for the missing element. Knowing what it was, Lilly turned to the small refrigerator where she kept water and one other liquid. She retrieved a small vial and unscrewed the lid. Lilly dipped a dropper into the vial and squeezed the rubber tip, extracting the crimson fluid. She added two drops of blood to the scarlet paint on her palette. With the fine bristles of her paint brush, Lilly swirled the two together before touching the canvas, which was already filled with bright blues, yellows, and oranges. The blood she used was her own. She had found out by accident it enriched the scarlet, creating a color no one else used.

  The silver bangles she was never without tinkled as her right hand stroked across the canvas, the noise a calming tune as she lost herself in the scene she was creating. Lilly preferred softer sounds than the loud Jazz often played outside her home. The small apartment above her business was in one of the busiest cities in the world. While she would prefer a small cottage nestled in the woods away from so many people, Lilly remained in New Orleans because of her grandmother. Her parents adopted Lillian as a baby, living in New Orleans at the time. Frederick, her father, had been a trumpeter, working many of the bars along Bourbon Street. By the time he and Lilly’s mom decided to move somewhere quieter, Lilly was already living with Grams. She remained in the city, afraid if she moved, she would lose all connection to the wonderful woman who taught her everything she knew.

  When her phone chimed hours later, Lilly cleaned up her area, then changed out of her paint-covered smock. Getting lost in her art meant setting an alarm so she wasn’t late setting up her paintings along St. Peter Street. Lilly donned a colorful, flowing skirt, a sunny, tangerine tunic, and a comfortable pair of leather sandals. She wrapped a scarf through her long, dirty-blonde hair before slipping on some chandelier earrings. Look complete, Lilly headed downstairs to the cart already loaded with paintings. She pushed the cart across the street and began hanging them on the portion of fencing she rented from the city.

  “What the fuck is that smell?” Dominic Dubois muttered to himself as he searched the living room of his second-in-command’s home. Where Dom’s manor was still filled with dark wood and accents from the eighteen hundreds, Sully’s house was modern angles with bright colors, most coming from the artwork on the walls. Dom followed his nose to one of the paintings. When he was less than three feet away, he became light-headed. There was something there, something besides the faint odor of acrylics.

  “Are you sniffing my artwork?” Sullivan asked upon entering the room. He held out a glass of brandy, and Dom took it, tossing it back in one go. “Dom?”

  “What?” he barked. Sullivan narrowed his eyes, and Dom sighed. “Yes, I was sniffing your artwork because there’s something enticing yet nauseating about the scent. Come closer.”

  Sully did as Dom requested. He leaned in and inhaled. “Hmm, you are correct. It smells like…” Dom held his breath, waiting for Sully to come to the same conclusion. “It smells like blood.”

  “Yes it does, and it calls to me.” Dominic searched the bottom of the painting for the artist’s name. “LSJ,” he muttered upon finding only initials although he would know who the artist was by the style.

  “Lillian St. James. She’s local. Sells her work down in Jackson Square. Pretty little thing.” Dominic growled low in his throat, and Sully held up his hands. “What the fuck, Dom? I was just making an observation.”

  “My apologies, but that,” Dom pointed at the painting, “smells like she belongs to me.”

  “As in your mate?” Dom nodded, but Sully shook his head. “We would know if she were one of ours.”

  Dominic stared at the bright colors. “Many years ago, a gypsy foretold my mate would be a fair-haired witch. I have been entranced with Lillian for a while, ever since running into her at McFadden’s. When I get close to her, my stomach rolls, yet at the same time, I have this incessant need to be near her. To touch her. Prot
ect her. It is why the smell of the painting threw me.”

  Sully leaned against the desk, crossing his legs at the ankle. “I don’t know what to tell you, Brother. As far as I know, she’s human.”

  Before setting eyes on her, he rarely ventured to that part of the city, preferring to leave patrolling to his Clan, but Dominic hadn’t seen Lillian in several days, and with talk of the artist, he found he needed to set eyes on the female. “Thank you for the drink, Brother.”

  “I take it you’re headed to the Quarter?” Dominic merely grunted, and Sully grinned. “Good luck,” his best friend offered. Dom tipped an imaginary tricorne and saw himself out.

  Dominic had donned many styles of clothing during his several hundred years, but he preferred the look of a Hollywood pirate. Having run across real pirates during the seventeen hundreds, he knew his fashion was a statement rather than practical. The leather pants were hot in the Louisiana sun, but they made his ass look good. The white, billowy shirt was comfortable as fuck, as were the black boots he tucked his pants into. At six and a half feet, Dominic stood out regardless of how he dressed, but he didn’t mind the attention.

  Not wanting to ride the trolly, Dom walked back to his manor for one of his vehicles. He had a permanent parking space in one of the garages near the French Quarter, so less than twenty minutes later, he found himself among the tourists walking around Jackson Square. It didn’t take long to find Lillian St. James. When Sully said the female was pretty, he had been mistaken. The blonde was the most exquisite creature Dominic had come across in his seven hundred years. Dominic watched her from across the street. Her voice was light and cheerful. Her laugh was genuine, and it hit Dom in the solar plexus. Mate or not, he had to have the female. Instead of approaching, Dominic continued studying Lillian. He would do what he did best – come up with a plan of attack that ensured he came out the victor.