Stone Cold Crone: Magic and Mayhem Universe: Game of Crones, #1

By Donna McDonald

The power of three isn't what it used to be.

 

Violet likes living as a Crone. Even though her nearly toothless smile looks like a Halloween pumpkin carving gone wrong, she will never regret making her Crone bargain with Hecate. She hopes her centuries-old coven of three from Salem doesn't have regrets either, but she rarely knows what Listeria and Katherine really think. Being the oldest and the only natural witch among them, her coven witches mostly enjoy giving Violet a hard time. Normally, she's fine with being the butt of their jokes, but a blast from the past is back to haunt them. And that's no joking matter.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Donna McDonald
• Release date: Jun 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201197735

Donna McDonald

Donna McDonald published her first romance novel in March of 2011. Fifty plus novels later, she admits to living her own happily ever after as a full-time author. Her work spans several genres, such as contemporary romance, paranormal, and science fiction. Humor is the most common element in all her writing. Addicted to making readers laugh, she includes a good dose of romantic comedy in every book.

Book preview

Prologue

Salem, Massachusetts, Summer of 1692

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Why did you sell my mother? She was only sad because she missed her island home.

John Parris stopped chopping wood to glare at his light-skinned slave daughter. He was grateful she didn’t look too much like Tituba. Mind how you talk to me, Violet. Your birth mother was no longer useful to either of us. Because of you, I sold the mad woman to keep her from rotting away in jail. I could have let Tituba be hanged like the other witches.

Violet lifted her chin. She hated the white bonnet she wore. She hated the stiff petticoat under her gray dress. Her mother had made breeches for her and hemmed her skirts so she could move more freely. John’s new mistress of his house had taken everything her mother had made for her and burned it. Her father—which John Parris often lied to others about being—had done nothing but watch the woman.

Her mother had protected her far more than she’d ever realized until that protection was gone. She was thirteen and nearly a grown woman in the eyes of many. Would her father sell her soon as well? Without her mother to bargain for her, Violet truly felt like her life would never again be her own to control.

She could not believe this was meant to be her fate—she really couldn’t.

She was doubly grateful now that she’d buried her mother’s spell books by the maple tree near the garden instead of keeping them in the room they’d shared before her mother had been taken and put into jail.

Her attention returned to the conversation when her father sighed heavily.

With God as my judge, I swear I’m not an unreasonable man. I won’t sell you to anyone if you behave. Do your share of the work around the house and earn your keep. Your new mistress enjoys having servants.

What if I don’t behave well enough to suit your new wife? Will I be sent to jail like my mother? Violet demanded.

John laughed. Jail is only a first stop for witches like Tituba, girl. You would be hanged along with the rest of them if you ever do the things Tituba did. Set those ideas away from your mind completely or I’ll beat them out of you. I’m the only reason you’ve been spared so far. You best remember that.

But Violet never gave up that easily. You once told me that a person’s word meant everything. My mother spoke only her truth when she confessed to being a witch. It was how she did all those good things that made your life easier. Momma told me her magic was a legacy from her original people.

Of course, Tituba was a real witch. It was how the devil possessed her.

Violet shook her head. No. I will never believe that Momma is evil. One day I too will be a witch. I will be so powerful no one will be able to control me. Then you’ll have to believe that magic is good.

John laughed. My legacy is stronger, Violet. You’ll work hard, live right, and maybe go to heaven when you die. In the meantime, the bed clothes all need a good washing. Get to work before I beat you for laziness.

Violet stared at her heartless father for a few seconds longer. The man responsible for her existence would never set her free. She could see it in his eyes. Only her mother’s legacy could save her from the destiny John Parris planned for her. She’d find a powerful goddess to help her fight back—one who loved witches.

She knew her mother wouldn’t care if Violet’s goddess wasn’t her goddess. Her mother said a witch had to choose her own magic path to walk through life, and that’s what she would do. Magic was her path and always would be. It was like her mother always said, Violet, real magic can’t be taken away except by death.

Which was why Violet was willing to do whatever she had to do to make sure she lived forever.

1

Violet sighed over the steady, annoying knock on her front door. It was equally annoying to know who her visitor was without even checking the peephole.

She hadn’t seen him in ten years and didn’t want to see him now. Since he’d once lived freely in her home, she couldn’t magically keep him out of it without doing actual harm.

Shaking her head, she headed to open it.

Not only was harming him against the magical oath she lived by, she also couldn’t bring herself to hurt him like he’d hurt her. She was not that kind of mother.

Bracing herself with a deep breath, Violet yanked open the door. The handsome man on her threshold blinked and then jumped back in shock. He’d inherited her mother’s energy, yet looked exactly like his father. The disparity drove her crazy. Alastair wasn’t much older than Sean when they’d first met.

Great Hecate, Mother! What have you done to yourself?

Just because her son had never seen her as a Crone didn’t mean that she had to tolerate his criticism of her appearance. Glaring, Violet slammed the door in her son’s face, and then calmly headed back to her kitchen to check on her dinner.

A black cat with a bloody shoulder bolted through the pet door she’d installed in the back exit for him long ago. Once inside the kitchen, he morphed into an attractive Egyptian male who looked twenty-five, but was in actuality way older than her.

Listeria and Katherine got normal cats as familiars. Their felines were sentient and intelligent, but completely animal. Only she could have drawn some ancient cat shifter to her. Her deal with Goddess Hecate had come with quite a few surprises over the centuries, but Jabari remained the biggest.

Before Hecate had taken him on, the foolish man Jabari had been had given up his humanity to Goddess Bastet. Why had he done that? Violet still wasn’t sure. Jabari changed his story about it too often for her to figure it out. All she knew for certain was that he’d begged Hecate to convert him, which meant he spent his time hacking up cat hairballs and dealing with the demands of his assigned witches—the latest being her.

Jabari crossed his arms and stared. Sean is standing on the stoop and staring sadly at the front door. Did you refuse to let the poor boy come in? Shame on you.

Violet huffed. I didn’t say a word. Sean did all the talking—as usual.

Did you curse him silently?

Violet rolled her eyes. No, but it crossed my mind. My son doesn’t yet know I can do that. It wouldn’t have been fair.

When did you ever think in terms of magic being fair, Violet? Cursing my last girlfriend is what sped up your Crone process. You said nothing to me or to Tamela either, but her nose started growing the moment she spoke.

Violet blinked innocently at the creature she too often thought of as another son. Jabari was older than her, but not any wiser than her own child. Her shifter familiar was double-dumb when it came to females. She would never let Jabari bring any other witch into her home again, especially not one who reeked of the dark arts.

Did the Pinocchio snout I gave Tamela whenever she lied put you off between the sheets?

Jabari sighed. You were right to show me she was being deceitful, but no one deserves to go through life looking like she does now.

Violet shrugged. Why not? Now she looks like the wicked old witch she aspires to be. Ugly is a mild side effect for the dark power she’s playing with. Give her a few years and you won’t recognize her. She’ll look far worse than any Crone.

Sighing, Jabari shook his head. You have no compassion for the follies of youth.

Violet lifted one corner of her mouth in a sneer. When I was fourteen, my father gave me to a rich man who promised to finance his business. It took me a month to escape that man and another to weave the spell I punished him with for what he did to me while I was with him. But I didn’t immediately kill the man who bought me like I wanted to. I made him suffer until he took his own life. That’s as compassionate as I ever get with anyone.

Jabari narrowed his eyes. Don’t you have a greater compassion for your son, though? You married his father and performed all the rituals during Sean’s childhood to ensure his magic stayed. He’s nearly thirty years old, Violet. He’ll be getting his own familiar soon. Alastair hasn’t been able to convert him.

Violet chuckled. I didn’t kill the boy when he showed up today. Doesn’t letting him live count as compassion?

Jabari crossed his arms. Barely. Why is Sean here?

Turning back to stir her stew, Violet shrugged. No idea, but I know who sent him. Alastair didn’t dare come see me himself. He sent his mini-me to do his dirty work.

Alastair only wishes that were the case. Sean is not Alastair’s mini-me. Your son will be a powerful witch like you. Or rather, one like your mother. His magic leans towards calling the natural elements, but he has a dark side like all witches do.

Violet snorted. Yes, I know, but he doesn’t know what he can do. Or who he is. Or about his real magic.

"And he never will unless you let him