Capricorn Cursed Read online

  Capricorn: Cursed © 2016 by Sèphera Girón

  Book One of the Witch Upon a Star Series

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This 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, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  For more information contact:

  Riverdale Avenue Books

  5676 Riverdale Avenue

  Riverdale, NY 10471.

  www.riverdaleavebooks.com

  Design by www.formatting4U.com

  Cover by Scott Carpenter

  Digital ISBN 9781626012547

  Print ISBN 9781626012554

  First Edition 2008 published by Ravenous Romance

  Second Edition January 2016

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  Welcome to the Witch Upon a Star series, where anything can and does happen.

  A few years ago, I wrote a couple of books about sexy witches casting spells for romance. These witches belong to a coven, ruled by a High Priestess named Lucy, in a little New England coastal town called Hermana. After I wrote and published the first few books, my real life took a bit of a turn, and so my lovely ladies and the remaining books were put aside for a few years. However, Lori Perkins, who has always championed these witches and this series, gave me a call in the fall and asked me to consider resurrecting my lovely ladies and their magical adventures for her new publishing company, Riverdale Avenue Books.

  It wasn’t too difficult to persuade me to revisit Hermana and Lucy and the witches. I’m thrilled to be working with Lori on this series, and I can’t wait to see what my witches are going to do next!

  Part of the fun of working on this series this time around includes the fact that the television shows American Horror Story, Penny Dreadful, Bates Motel and Scream Queens are hugely popular right now. I love these shows. They have a great knack for telling wild stories with sex, horror and comedy while everyone looks fabulous.

  Why does this matter to an erotic writer?

  The Witch Upon a Star series combines love, lust, horror, passion, comedy and life in much the same way these favorite shows of mine do. People who enjoy watching these shows will understand this series. Even if readers don’t watch TV, they will enjoy this series. Each book contains a complete story, a complete roller-coaster ride that follows a birthday girl and her quest for sex and love. A reader can pick up any book and enjoy a lusty magical adventure.

  The Witch Upon a Star series is set in the fictional New England town, Hermana, Massachusetts that was founded by twin sisters who escaped the Salem witch trials in the 1700’s.

  The sisters’ names were Sorona and Serephena. They both lived well into their 90’s, sharing their holistic healing secrets and building up the mystical vibrations of the area. They married twin witches, Nigel and Nathaniel, who shared their voracious sexual appetites and magical healing abilities. Consequently, the foursome enjoyed a long line with many descendants who continued to grow the town and add to its magical and erotic qualities.

  The town is rich in tradition and combines the beauty of both ocean and forest. Much like Cassadaga in Florida, Lily Dale in New York, or Sedona in Arizona, Hermana resonates with some sort of vibration that attracts spiritualists, occultists, ghost-hunters, witches and divination experts from all over the world.

  The town is about 45 minutes from Boston, a few miles from a major highway, by way of a long, winding road that weaves through a forest, a meadow with a ring of trees, and then into the village. The road leads directly to the ocean, where there is a large, public beach. Some of the residents enjoy nude sunbathing, and in Hermana, anything goes. There are many funky little shops, several pubs, dance clubs, bed and breakfasts, a gym and library. The town is inhabited by people who believe in the power of the sisters and those who do not.

  The biggest and most well-known landmark is a huge New England gothic-style house complete with turrets, which is where the sisters originally lived. Of course, it was just a shack when they first cobbled it together in the early founding days, but over the generations, wings, tunnels, wrought-iron fencing and lush gardens were added.

  One of their descendants lives there now. Lucy, who is about 80, opens her doors now and again to the town for various celebrations. She has a core group comprised of 12 of the local ladies who meet with her monthly, if not more frequently, to discuss life and love, cast spells and welcome the various equinoxes. Guests are often welcome when there isn’t a private ceremony and are allowed to bring questions to the witches.

  People flock to Hermana for answers. Some find them. Some do not. Others go for the rumored hedonistic pleasures and usually find something to entertain and entice them.

  Each month, the Witch Upon a Star series will focus on the romantic quest of a different lady connected to Hermana. January will tell the story of our Capricorn friend, Natasha.

  The power of love and lust, magic and mysticism is at the heart of the town, which keeps beating as steadily as the waves that crash along the beach. Connections are made and lost.

  Passion ebbs and flows. And still, the town continues to beguile the seekers, the wanderers and the lost to experience its hedonistic pleasures and unearth its darkest secrets.

  Welcome to Hermana,

  I hope you enjoy your stay.

  Welcome to the first book in Witch Upon a Star!

  Blessed Be!

  Sèphera Girón

  January 3, 2016

  CAPRICORN

  December 22–January 20

  Element: Earth

  Ruling Planet: Saturn

  Symbol: The Goat

  Primary Mode: Sensation

  Key Phrase: I Master

  Life Lesson: We all have to die some day; first live.

  Colors: Brown, orange, green, black, gray, indigo, violet

  Stones: Diamond—enhances self-confidence, heightens ambition

  Falcon’s Eye—increases visionary powers, intuition

  White Sapphire— promotes discipline

  Famous Capricorns: David Bowie, Edgar Allen Poe, Elvis Presley, Pitbull, Betty White, Ellen DeGeneres, Annie Lennox, Patti Smith, Pat Benatar, Michele Obama, Katie Couric, Martin Luther King Jr., Marlene Dietrich, Cary Grant, Henry Miller, Howard Stern, Isaac Asimov, J. D. Salinger, J. R. R. Tolkien, Jack London, Jim Carrey, Janis Joplin, Kid Rock, Marilyn Manson, Mary Tyler Moore, Mel Gibson, Muhammad Ali, Orlando Bloom, Rod Stewart, Rudyard Kipling, Susan Lucci, Ted Danson, Tia Carrere, Tiger Woods, Victor Borge, Woodrow Wilson

  Earth Sign Buzzwords: ambitious, practical, patient, nurturing, stable, reliable, hard-worker, practical, generous, classic, introverted, materialistic, calm, down-to-earth, feminine

  Capricorn Traits: Capricorn is represented by the goat that is always climbing to the top of the mountain and the fish that is intuitive. Capricorns can be dreamers with a mission, and they often get their tasks completed. Capricorns are known for having the driest wit in the zodiac. Sometimes people just don’t get them. They are careful-minded people also known for their pessimism. They consider facts judiciously before taking action. They aren’t afraid of hard work, which is a good thing since they can be materialistic and house-proud. Capricorns are rather secretive and shy. They are sensitive and have a fear of rejection, although they can be rather egotistical about their talents as well. Capricorns are horny goats whose sexual desires are often bubbling just below the surface.

  Natasha’s forecast:

  Secrets are prominent and hold the key to an auspicious future
. Listen to the messages that others are trying to tell you. Follow your instincts and go with your gut feelings. A mysterious stranger holds your fate in his hands. Don’t be so reticent with your emotions.

  Chapter One

  A new year brings new beginnings.

  Plant Killer

  It was a sunny day, which was rare during the gloomy New England winters. Rarer still was Natasha being awake on such a day. In fact, she had stayed up so late that it was nearly noon, long past her bedtime.

  Natasha blocked out the light by drawing the heavy, velvet, burgundy curtains shut. She turned back to the living room, searching for any stray ray that may have slipped through the cracks. The flickering flames from several tall, tapered candles in wrought-iron candelabras now cast the only light. She returned to her plush velvet couch and goblet of cranberry juice to relax with her book.

  Anyone looking in at her would see a tall, lanky woman with a long, pale face, a dark, penetrating stare and waist-length, black hair who was half-lying on the plush pillows. Natasha turned the pages of her book with long, delicate fingers and studied the words with intensity. But this was a facade; no one could really see the real Natasha.

  The espionage novel she was reading wasn’t catching her interest. Soon she was restlessly looking around the room. Tall piles of books teetering on wooden tables surrounding her. Hundreds more lined the heavy wooden shelves that sprawled along the walls. The room was large enough to house both her living room and dining room. A claw-foot wooden table held a bouquet of fake black roses and lace doilies on a black tablecloth. Although she hadn’t had anyone over for dinner in months, she was always ready in case the opportunity arose.

  Her mind drifted lazily to New Year’s Eve with Gus. They had slipped away to one of the bedrooms to talk quietly, away from the raucous party. His voice was low and deep, soothing her in the darkness. His hand had cupped the curve of her face when he first pressed his lips against hers; his breath was hot and tasted of champagne. Hunger swelled in her, a hunger for more of his taste.

  The kiss had been short and tentative. When he pulled back, she leaned into him, kissing him again. Their kisses grew deeper and longer, her tongue rooted out his. They fell onto the bed together.

  How secure she had felt with his arms wrapped around her. His scent was still in her nostrils as she remembered the heady aroma of his cologne mixed with sweat. His broad, muscular chest was firm against hers as they rolled around in one of Lucy’s private rooms. His lips had eagerly sought hers out as if he were as hungry for affection as she was. Their hands had roamed along each other’s bodies, pressing and pulling at unfamiliar flesh. Their urgency had grown through their kisses, and their half-clothed bodies tangled around each other. As she considered whether she should unbutton his pants, the moment was suddenly over.

  Someone burst into the room looking for coats, interrupting them long before anything meaningful could happen. The interruption had rendered them shy once more.

  It was nearly dawn when Lucy’s New Year’s party broke up. Natasha had noticed the red fingers of the sun climbing up the horizon and realized it was time to leave. She had to leave. There was really no choice in the matter. Gus had gone off to socialize with friends once they returned from the bedroom, and though she glanced through the crowd, she hadn’t noticed where he had ended up. Many of the party guests used the impending dawn as a reason to call it a night, a day, a year.

  In the rush of people, Natasha never had a chance to say good-bye to him as she grabbed her violin case and set out for home.

  She wondered if she would see him again. She wondered if he wanted to see her again.

  Natasha hadn’t noticed him around town before, but Hermana was rather large. Since she didn’t go out much during the day, she didn’t know if he could have been living and working here for years. Men came and went. Some were special. Some, not so much. Such was the way of life.

  Again she attempted to focus on the words in front of her, but they lazily swam away. The idea of spies blasting each other from hidden places just wasn’t holding her attention, as dreamy romantic ideas flitted around her tired mind.

  Looking around the room, she was aware of all the darkness—black candelabras, black lamps, black table dressings, even black books. Normally, she enjoyed all the blacks and burgundies that furnished her space, but as ideas of romance circled her thoughts, she wondered if all the dark colors were just a black hole where her emotions hid.

  She yearned for some greenery in the dimness, but whenever she brought home a new plant, it died. The only current survivor was a three-foot tree in the corner, but even that wasn’t faring too well.

  She went to the kitchen to fill her copper pot with water from the cooler. The shiny metal glimmered in the darkness. The running water reminded her of the first time she laid eyes on the pot. It had been in the hands of Countess Lydia (of some small European town she would have to look up again in her diary) as she showed Natasha the proper way to water plants. Even as Natasha stood beside the beautiful countess, the brilliant green leaves around her turned a dull yellow as they slowly shriveled and died.

  The countess had turned to her with a gleam in her eye.

  “As I expected, you are one of them.” The countess studied her as she questioned Natasha. “How can I show you to care for plants when you are destruction?”

  Natasha shivered as she remembered the look of betrayal in the countess’s eyes. No matter how much she forgot over the years, the hurt in that she had seen in those eyes never left her heart.

  The pot was nearly full, and Natasha turned off the tap. As she walked toward the small tree, a Malabar chestnut, in the corner of the living room, its leaves fluttered lightly.

  “Now, now, I’m just trying to feed you.”

  As she approached the plant, it turned a light yellow and tightly curled up its leaves. Natasha sighed and stepped back. The tree uncurled hesitantly the farther away she went.

  “Two days old and already you’re leaving me. So much for my money feng shui.” She returned to the kitchen and poured the water down the drain. Sighing, she went over to her computer and flicked it on. She checked her email. Nothing except her daily horoscopes.

  “A new year brings new hope.”

  Natasha sighed. Didn’t beginning-of-the-year horoscopes always say that?

  She noted that the full moon was on her birthday, and she considered that rather auspicious. The moon was going from Cancer to Leo, so she imagined she would have some vivid dreams and lusty thoughts.

  Finally, sleep beckoned her. She returned to the living room to snuff out her candles. She stopped at the small altar set up by the window.

  There were a few simple tokens on it, and she touched each one lightly. “Thank you for your blessings.”

  She went into her bedroom, where a huge king-sized bed with a thick burgundy velvet canopy loomed. The bed was the centerpiece of the room, but it still didn’t detract from the ornate matching dresser and highboy. There was also a wardrobe. But, her favorite item, one she had kept for years, was her vanity table.

  The little claw-footed, mirrored dresser had once belonged to someone. She couldn’t quite remember who and knew she would have to refer to her diary again. There was the vague idea that it had been payment, likely for music classes. The matching stool was upholstered with burgundy velvet. Although it was worn, it was still a beautiful piece.

  Once a week, Natasha wandered around her rooms with lemon oil and cloths, shining up her precious wooden pieces until they gleamed like the moon on the beach at low tide.

  She put on her favorite white cotton nightgown with the ruffled sleeves and slipped into bed. Lost among the pillows and comforters, she reached out to tie the canopy flaps shut. With a black-silk-and-lace mask over her eyes, she smiled as she tried to sleep, willing herself toward thoughts of Gus once more.

  In minutes, she came to her.

  “Not tonight,” Natasha whispered. “I’m tired.”

&n
bsp; The spirit was persistent, teasing her face with ethereal, floating fingers. Natasha batted at her with her hand.

  “No. I don’t want to know.”

  Natasha rolled over, turning her back to the ghost, but it was to no avail. The ghost teased her mask from her face, forcing Natasha to look at her.

  The ghostly presence shimmered in the darkness, a full mouth and wide, expectant eyes flitted in and out of Natasha’s focus. Another form shifted into shape next to the ghost and then another one. Soon, lost souls crying to Natasha for attention filled the canopy tent.

  “Go away,” she said firmly to them as she sat up. “I don’t want to see you right now.” Slowly, the images faded, and Natasha flopped back onto her pillows.

  Curse this so-called gift! Why is there always a price?

  Her dreams were no better, which was not surprising. The stronger her gift of speaking to the dead grew, the more she was unable to control it. Between unexpected messages from beyond and her constant thirst, she was going mad.

  By the time she awoke, she was dizzy and weak. She opened up the great velvet drapes and greeted the night. It was chilly in the room; she could almost see her breath. She knew it had nothing to do with the snowstorm outside. It was the ghosts, lurking in wait for her to answer their questions and relay messages to their loved ones.

  Her fingers itched as she prepared the coffeemaker. Once it was percolating, she went into the living room. There was a bit of a glow from the moon as the whiteness of the pounding snow swirled outside her windows.

  Natasha loved her loft. It sprawled across the entire floor of an old factory from the ‘20’s. Some company had once thought Hermana might be a good trade town. If there had been more workers able to focus on toiling in a factory, it would have been.