Which Witchery is That?

Mature Magic Book 3

Enchantingly Mature – Charmingly Chaotic

Have you ever heard of a Groundhog Day curse? Yeah, I hadn’t either. Until somebody put one on a certain goth teenager who means a lot to me. I’m determined to find the source of Wanda’s curse and fix it. Especially since we just learned the curse is about to transform from inconvenient, to deadly.

    

"A non-stop action thrill ride"

"This story was a non-stop action thrill ride. It kicks off almost from the moment the book opens and doesn’t let up until the very end. New allies, new enemies, and lots and lots of new discoveries. I have no idea what Aggy’s going to have to face in the future, but I can’t wait to go on the adventure with Madam Lares and her Council." 

More From This Series 

March 1, 2022

Praise for Which Witchery is That?

Kristen L - Booksprout Reviewer

This third installment in Sam Cheever's Mature Magic series is fantastic! The series just keeps getting better! The vivid descriptive writing creates an almost movie-like reading experience. You are actually able to visualize what’s happening so well that it’s almost like watching event unfold on a movie screen. These books are some of the most creative books I’ve read in a long time.

DianaRaven - Booksprout Reviewer

Sam Cheever has a way with vivid descriptions of people, places and the unexplainable. Be prepared for an enjoyable, fun story filled with ghosts, demons, witches, and who knows what else, some that want to help and others filled with evil and one cute, loveable hero, Monty the dachshund hero. I highly recommend this series.

Read an Excerpt

Cursed to Wander Familiar Ground

A slender crescent moon hung high overhead, its silver glow painting the boards beneath my feet. Behind me, my dog explored a massive cobweb in the corner of the belfry, his tail wagging with interest.

I leaned against the wide sill of the open archway overlooking my backyard. Far below me, appearing even more spectral than usual, the ghostly Reverend Dodson moved through the tombstones, looking peaceful and content.

A rhythmic pounding sounded from the house below. Trish and Luke had been working long hours every day for a week trying to get all my beautiful windows reinstalled after the emergence of a demonic vortex shattered them. It had taken almost a month to get the glass, with its unique size and shape, and I was sick of having a dark and gloomy house from being boarded up.

The thought brought on a shudder, as I remembered the vortex. If I never saw another demon, it would be too soon. 

A cold nose touched the back of my ankle, Monty's way of letting me know he was there. I looked down and smiled at my black and tan, longhaired dachshund. Like the good reverend, Monty was a happy soul, his doggy enthusiasm a bright spot in even the darkest day. "Did you get that mean old spider?" I asked my little hero.

He grinned back at me, his small body wagging happily. Spider web silk hung from one floppy ear and covered his left eye like a pirate's patch. I reached down and wiped it off. "You might not have caught the spider," I told him. "But you definitely caught its house."

A soft chirp brought my gaze up to the bat in my belfry. The yellow eyes were inexplicably locked on me. "Yes, Your Chirpiness?"

The bat hung there, wings tidily folded and tiny claws clinging to a narrow piece of wood that ran from the peak of the bell tower to the top of the wall. We stared at each other until I gave in and shook my head. "I know you talk. You've spoken to me before. Why are you being so stubborn?"

The last few nights, I'd been climbing the narrow staircase and having my pre-bedtime glass of wine up there with Monty. He enjoyed snuffling around. I enjoyed looking out over the moon-painted yard, and I'd been trying to get the bat to talk to me. She apparently communicated with Wanda, the youngest member of my council, all the time. The belfry was the teen's favorite spot in my house. She and Bathilda, or Batty as I liked to call her, had spent a lot of hours since I'd moved into the church, chatting about things that neither of them shared with me.

There was another reason why I'd been spending the last half hour of my day in the belfry. It was a reason I was reluctant to admit even to myself.

I was looking for something.

It was something that I'd caught out of the corner of my eye several days earlier. But I hadn't seen it again. And I was starting to think the sighting had just been the result of wishful thinking on my part.

I sipped my wine and looked back up at Bathilda. "What's going through the kid's head?" I asked. "I know she tells you. I just want to help." There’d been a new sadness in Wanda’s gaze lately. She’d been lacking her usual perpetual confidence, to the point that she seemed unwilling to offer an opinion or even draw attention to herself.

It was worrying me.

The tiny bat spread its wings as if stretching and then refolded them, blinking slowly in my direction.

Nothing.

Curse, curse, dang bat.

With a long-suffering sigh, I turned my attention back to the yard, taking another sip of my wine. Despite my frustration with the magical flying rodent, I was relaxed and happy. Life was falling into a comfortable rhythm. I was starting to get the hang of my new career as a guardian for the town of Rome, Indiana. And the moment in time I was currently living was filled with magic and promise.

Down below, the world had soft edges and a pale haze that made it look enchanted. On the furthest edges of that world, something moved through the shadows, just beyond the moonlight's reach.

My gaze whipped in that direction and held. My breathing turned shallow. The shadows stilled, nothing moving within them. Just when I was ready to give up and go downstairs, I saw it again.

A flash of white, gleaming through the trees.

The soft sound of wings above my head didn't even tempt me to look. I kept my gaze locked on that spot between the trees, far at the back of my property. My pulse picked up. My heart beat hopefully against my ribs. "Come on," I whispered.

In my peripheral vision, I watched Bathilda flutter out into the night, darting and dipping as she munched mosquitoes and, presumably, other flying bugs.

Moments later, when my eyes were starting to sting from my unrelenting focus on that spot, I saw it again. A gleaming white form, moving through the trees.

I smiled. "There you are, beautiful. Come out and let me feast my eyes on you." As if she'd heard my words, the enormous, elegant creature stepped into the moonlight.

Tears burned my eyes. Tears of relief and happiness. "Hello, there, beauty," I breathed.

The ethereally stunning white horse tossed its head, its thick mane dancing silkily around its elegant head. We stared at each other across the distance for several moments. I was afraid to move or look away for fear she would disappear.

Finally, with another toss of her head and a flash of her bright green gaze, the white horse spun around and galloped into the night.

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