Spookily Yours (Witches of Pleasant Grove, #1)

by Jennifer Chipman

I’d always been taught that black cats were a sign of good luck. Maybe that just came with the territory as the daughter of a witch, but every time I’d seen one, life seemed to look up.

Crunchy leaves littered the ground, giving a satisfying crunch anytime I stepped on one with my boots. The entire world was lit up with color, all the trees turning the magnificent hues of autumn.

I loved every bit of this season—when the air turned crisp and you could pull all the warm sweaters out of the back of your closet. It felt like the equivalent of wrapping yourself up in a warm, cozy blanket with a cup of hot apple cider in your hands.

I was a homebody, I’d admit. I preferred curling up on my couch with a blanket and a bowl of popcorn to going out.

I might not have had everything figured out, but at least I had coffee.

There was nothing quite as magical as getting lost in the pages of a good book. I’d always loved that feeling—looking up, and realizing I’d just spent the last three straight hours reading without a break.

Was there a cat there, as lonely and desperate for companionship as I was?

But no. They had confined me to a cage, which forced me to stare at my reflection, wishing I could get out of this damn form. To make matters worse, they’d given me a name. And not one that was benefiting of my caliber. No.

“Gods, Willow,” she muttered to herself. Willow. I liked that. “You have got to stop talking to the cat like he’s going to respond.” If only she knew.

I still have to figure out what to call you.” Demon Cat is fine, I thought, sitting up to stare at her. She snorted, not breaking eye contact. “I still can’t believe they called you a demon cat. You’re such a sweet little boy, aren’t you?” My witch scratched under my chin, and I let out an involuntary purr.

Maybe life as a cat wasn’t so bad. That was the thought that startled me awake. I couldn’t afford to think like this. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but I had to get out of this body—before the change was permanent. If there was even a chance I had to remain as a cat forever, I needed to do everything I could to fix it.

“How do we get you, um… de-catted? De-catified?” I pondered the term, and then shook my head. “Has this happened before?”

Oh my gods. “A cursed talking cat? What is this, Sabrina the Teenage Witch?”

“You called me your little baby boy three times this morning.” I cleared my throat. “I thought you were a cat.” “As normal people do.” He purred.

“My name is Damien, though I suppose Demon Cat is also appropriate.” His ear twitched. I didn’t think I was imagining the chuckle in his voice. “I’m the bastard prince of the Demon King, and that makes me⁠—” “A demon.”

“I’m sorry. I just can’t take you seriously. You’re so cute.” I booped his nose in demonstration, watching as he wiggled his whiskers.

“Something like that.” I couldn’t explain to her why I was in the human realm, why I’d been out where a witch could curse me in the first place, but when you boiled it down, that was what happened.

For whatever reason, I didn’t like other humans talking to my witch. Huh.

I found I didn’t like that, either. I wanted to stay by her side. Protect her. Even if I weighed ten pounds, I still had sharp claws. And pointy teeth. If anyone threatened her…

“Can you hear what I’m thinking, too?” I snorted. No. She looked relieved that I couldn’t hear into her thoughts, and I wondered what she was hiding underneath her warm smile. What thoughts were so private that she wanted to keep them only to herself?

Besides, the only demons that had that ability were ones who had found their mates. That mind-link between a bonded pair. I wasn’t one of the lucky ones who had.

I eyed his cat collar, the one with the bell. “How’d they get that on you, anyway?” Reaching over, I took it off of him, setting it on the table next to me. I should have taken it off sooner. The thought hadn’t even occurred to me. “Around the twelfth time of me chewing it off, I realized it was useless. They just kept putting a new one on me. So I just gave up.” He peered down at the orange thing. “Strange, to think I might go back to normal soon.” He licked a paw.

He’d been laying in the patch of sun that came through the library windows earlier. It made me snort, because only this demon could sunbathe, still claim he wasn’t a cat, and make it endearing.

And Luna—named after the moon, well… she’d named her cat after the Goddess of the moon.

“I’ve got you,” he promised. “Nothing will happen to you as long as I’m here, Willow. I vow it.”

The second I’d gotten my form back, when all of my powers had drawn back into my body, the truth had clicked in place. Her scent hit me like a lightning bolt to my system. Mine. She was—mine.

“You’re not a cat.” “I told you I wasn’t.” My lip twitched. It was hard not to give her the same expression back. “Still, I couldn’t be sure. Who would believe a talking cat?”

What business did I have coming in here, messing up her life, anyway? She’d adopted a cat, expecting a lifelong feline friend. Instead, she’d gotten me. A tricky, conniving asshole who wasn’t even honest with his purpose here. And yet—I couldn’t look away. Couldn’t force myself to part from her. Fuck, but I didn’t want to.

“That was easier than I thought.” “What?” “To have you begging me.” You’d like that, would you? Me on my knees for you. “All you have to do is ask, witch.” “Mm. You’d like that, would you, demon?” My hand curled around her bicep. “Be careful what you ask for.”

The humans had Girl Scout Troops, and we had our coven.

Plus, topped with homemade whipped cream? I was in heaven. I practically moaned at the thought. Damien gave me a strange look, and I flushed. “Sorry. Just thinking about pie.” I gave a dreamy sigh. “Pie?” His face scrunched up. “You have had pie before, right?” “Willow. I’m a demon. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“What is this?” Picking one out, I held up the strange multicolored candy—yellow, orange, and white in a triangle shape. She giggled. “It’s candy corn. Try it. It’s one of my favorites.” Corn? I made a skeptical face before popping it into my mouth. Sweet. I made a face. It tasted like frosting and sugar, all rolled into one. “What?” She laughed. “You don’t like it?”

🤢

Sometimes it felt like he was trying to commit every inch of me to memory, like if he kissed me enough, I would never fade from his thoughts.

“What did you expect?” “Hm. Darker. More black and red.” She looked up at the sky. “An endless darkness. Blood. I don’t know. Stuff like that.” “Ah.” I couldn’t exactly fault her for that.