Jillian Chantal

The Season of the Witch released today. Be warned, this one is pretty spicy. I’m proud that I was able to pull off a shifter story as this was the first one I wrote. And, yeah, I know I have another one out in the world, but it was written after this one.

EXCERPT:

He turned to her and she had to force herself from gasping at his beauty. He was most certainly not old. He looked at her with eyes the color of a glacier. She was immediately transported in her mind to Glacier Bay in Alaska, where she’d seen the calving of the ice into the ocean. His eyes pierced her soul. They seemed to see into the depths of her mind.
“Are you all right?” He peered at her. He spoke with what sounded like a Russian accent.
She shook her head as if to clear it. “I’m fine. Sorry, I was just gazing into my crystal ball. I’m still in a sort of trance. She hoped the lie wasn’t obvious.
“So, you are a seer then?”
“Do you need some help?”
He walked toward her. “I do. Have you heard about the recent cat killings?”
Again, she had to stop herself from gasping. This was exactly what she was trying to investigate on her own. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I have heard of these horrible ritualistic killings. In fact, when you came in, I was looking into my ball to see if I could see anything at all related to who may be behind it.”
He stepped closer until he was in her personal space. “What did you find?”
She took a step back, flustered by his masculinity and something that seemed vaguely feline. She tossed her head for clarity. “Nothing. I got nothing.”
“Hell. I need to get a lead on this. I was hoping you could help me.”
“I wish I could. I’m also trying to figure out who’s behind it. If it’s one person or an organization.”
“Why? Why are you involved?” He looked around the shop, “Do you think it’s witchcraft?”
“Uh-uh. Not necessarily. Just because my shop is called The Season of the Witch and I sell herbs and New Age items, doesn’t make me think everything is related to witchcraft.” She went behind the counter to get more distance from the man who was decidedly too disturbing to her senses. “And besides, wouldn’t it be a cliché for ritualistic killings of cats to be related to satanic worship?”
“No. I mean, why do you care? Why are you investigating?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” She leaned on the wooden top of the counter.
“I asked you first.” He winked and leaned in from his side of the counter until his nose was almost touching hers.

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