Release: July 2016
Series: Witchcraft #8
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Publisher: Penguin Random House
The New York Times bestselling author of Spellcasting in Silk continues as witch and vintage boutique owner Lily Ivory cracks open a Pandoraโs box when she investigates some alarming apparel. . .
Even the most skilled sorceress canโt ward off a lawsuit, and Lily is not at her enchanting best with her hands full as the temporary leader of San Francisco’s magical community. So after her potbellied pig Oscar head-butts rival clothier Autumn Jennings, Lily tries to make peace without a costly personal injury case.
But any hope of a quiet resolution is shattered when Autumn turns up dead. As one of the prime suspects, Lily searches for a way to clear her name and discovers a cursed trousseau among Autumnโs recently acquired inventory. Lily must deal with a mysterious dogwalker and spend the night in a haunted house as she delves into the trunkโs treacherous past. Sheโs got to figure out who wanted to harm Autumn fast, before the curse claims another victim. . .
Chapter One
Small business owners have their morning routines. Some people switch on the lights, brew a cup of coffee, and read the paper before engaging with the day. Some count out the money in the register and tidy up the merchandise. Some sweep and hose down the front walk.
Each morning before opening my vintage clothing store, Aunt Coraโs Closet, I sprinkle salt water widdershins, smudge sage deosil, and light a white candle while chanting a spell of protection.
Such spells can be powerful, and for a small business owner like me they serve an important purpose: to help customers maintain their composure in the face of fashion frustrations, keep evil intentions at bay, and discourage those with sticky fingers from rummaging through the feather boas, chiffon prom dresses, and silk evening gowns and then trying to shove said items into pockets or backpacks or under shirts.
But protection spells arenโt much good against litigation.
โLily Ivory?โ asked the petite, somber young woman who entered Aunt Coraโs Closet, a neon yellow motorcycle helmet under one arm. She had dark hair and eyes, and I imagined she would have been pretty had she smiled. But her expression was dour.
โYes?โ I asked, looking up from a list of receipts.
She held out a manila envelope. โYou have been served.โ
โServed?โ
โYou are hereby notified of a lawsuit against you, Aunt Coraโs Closet, and one errant pig, name unknown. By the by, not that itโs any of my business, but is it even legal to own livestock in the city?โ
I cast a glare in the direction of said pig, my witchโs familiar, Oscar. At least, I tried to, but heโd disappeared. Only moments earlier Oscar had been snoozing on his hand-embroidered purple silk pillow, resting up for a busy day of trying to poke his snout under the dressing room curtains while customers tried on vintage cocktail dresses, fringed leather jackets, and Jackie O pillbox hats. Now only the slight rustling of a rack of 1980s spangled prom dresses revealed his location.
โMy pigโs being served with legal papers?โ
โNot so much your pig, as you. Your property, your worry. At least, thatโs how it works with dogs, so I assume . . .โ The woman trailed off with an officious shrug as she headed for the front door with long strides, already pulling on her helmet. โBut that isnโt any of my business; I just deliver the bad news. Have a nice day.โ
โWaitโโ
She didnโt pause. I followed her outside, where someone was revving the engine of a large black motorcycle. The woman jumped on the back and they zoomed off.
โDuuude,โ said Conrad, the homeless young man who slept in nearby Golden Gate Park and spent the better part of his days โguardingโ the curb outside of my store. In San Franciscoโs Haight-Ashbury neighborhood, many young homeless people lived this way, panhandling and scrounging and generally referring to themselves as โgutter punks.โ Over the past year, Conradโor as he liked to call himself, โThe Conโโhad become a friend and the unofficial guardian of Aunt Coraโs Closet. โYou get served?โ
โApparently so,โ I said, opening the envelope to find some scary-looking legal-sized documents filled with legalese, such as โparty of the first part.โ
My heart sank as I put two and two together. My friend Bronwyn, who rents space in my store for her herbal stand, had filled me in on an incident that took place a couple of weeks ago while I was out scouting garage sales for resaleable treasure. It seems a woman came into the shop and started flicking through the merchandise, pronouncing it โunsuitableโtoo much of that dreadful ready-to-wear.โ Bronwyn had explained to her that Aunt Coraโs Closet doesnโt deal in high-end vintage; our merchandise consists mostly of wearable clothes, with the occasional designer collectibles. The woman then turned to my employee Maya and started grilling her about the ins and outs of the store, making none-too-subtle inquiries about where we obtained our specialty stock.
Oscar started getting in the customerโs way, making a pest of himself and keeping her away from the clothes. Bronwyn tried to call him off, but he kept at it, almost as though he was trying to herd her toward the exit. Finally the woman picked a parasol off a nearby shelf and started whacking Oscar, and there was a scuffle.
The woman had screamed and flailed, lost her balance, and fell back into a rack of colorful swing dresses. Maya and Bronwyn hastily extricated her, made sure she was all right, and offered profuse apologies. The woman had seemed fine at the time, they both said, and she stomped out of the store in high dudgeon.
But if I was reading the legal papers correctly, the womanโnamed Autumn Jenningsโwas now claiming she had been โhead-buttedโ by an โunrestrained pig,โ had been injured in the โattack,โ and was demanding compensation.
It was a mystery. Oscar had never herdedโmuch less head-buttedโanyone in Aunt Coraโs Closet before. He wasnโt the violent type. In fact, apart from a few occasions when he intervened to save my life, Oscar was more the โletโs eat grilled cheese and take a napโ type.
He was also my witchโs familiar, albeit an unusual one. Oscar was a shape-shifter who assumed the form of a miniature Vietnamese potbellied pig when around cowansโregular, nonmagical humans. Around me, his natural form was sort of a cross between a goblin and a gargoyle. A gobgoyle, for lack of a better word. His was a lineage about which I didnโt want to think too hard.
โBad vibes, Dude,โ Conrad said with a sage nod. โBeen there. Dude, I hate being served.โ
โYouโve been served?โ I asked. Conrad was in his early twenties and lived such a vagabond existence it was hard to imagine why anyone would bother to sue him. I could easily imagine his being picked up by police in a sweep of the local homeless population, but how would a process server even know where to find Conrad to serve him papers?
He nodded. โCouple times. But at least yours arrived on a Ducati. Thatโs a nice bike.โ
โWhat did youโโ My question was cut off by the approach of none other than Aidan Rhodes, witchy godfather to San Franciscoโs magical community. His golden hair gleamed in the sun, a beautifully tailored sports jacket hugged his tall frame, and a leather satchel was tucked under one strong arm. As he strolled down Haight Street with his signature graceful glide, strangers stopped to stare. Aidanโs aura glittered so brilliantly that even nonsensitive people noticed, though they didnโt realize what they were reacting to.
This is all I need.
I girded my witchy loins.
Things between Aidan and me were . . . complicated. Not long ago Iโd stolen something from Aidan, and I still owed him. And when it comes to debts, we witches are a little like elephants, bookies, and the Internet: We never forget. Even worse, Aidan feared San Francisco was shaping up to be ground zero in some sort of big magical showdown, and he wanted me to stand with him for the forces of good. Or, at the very least, for the good of Aidan Rhodes. It was hard to say exactly what was going onโand exactly what role I was willing to play in itโsince the threat was frustratingly nonspecific, and Aidan played his cards infuriatingly close to his chest.
โGood morning,โ Aidan said as he joined us. โConrad, itโs been too long. How have you been?โ
Despite their vastly different circumstances and lifestyles, Aidan treated Conrad with the respect due a peer. His decency sort of ticked me off. My life would be simpler if I could dismiss Aidan as an arrogant, power-hungry witch beyond redemption. His kindness toward my friend was difficult to reconcile with that image.
The two men exchanged pleasantries, chatting about the beauty of Golden Gate Park when bathed in morning dew and sunshine, and whether the Giants had a shot at the pennant this year. And then Aidan turned his astonishing, periwinkle blue gaze on me, sweeping me from head to foot.
Suddenly self-conscious, I smoothed the full skirt of my sundress.
โAnd Lily . . . Stunning as always. I do like that color on you. Itโs as joyful as the first rays of dawn.โ
โThank you,โ I said, blushing and avoiding his eyes. The dress was an orangey gold cotton with a pink embroidered neckline and hem, circa 1962, and I had chosen it this morning precisely because it reminded me of a sunrise. โArenโt you just the sweet talker.โ
โYou catch more flies with honey than with vinegar,โ my mama used to tell me. Did this mean I was the fly and Aidan the fly catcher?
โIs everything all right?โ Aidan asked. โAm I sensing trouble? Beyond the norm, I mean.โ
โDude, Lily just got served,โ Conrad said.
โServed? I fear we arenโt speaking of breakfast.โ
โA lawsuit,โ I clarified.
โAh. What a shame. Whatever happened?โ
โOscar head-butted a customer.โ
โThatโs . . . unusual.โ Aidan had given me Oscar and knew him well. โWas this person badly injured?โ
โI wasnโt there when it happened, but according to Bronwyn and Maya the customer seemed fine. But now sheโs claiming she sustained โserious and debilitating neck and back injuries that hinder her in the completion of her work and significantly reduce her quality of life,โโ I said, quoting from the document I still clutched tightly in my hand.
โThat sounds most distressing. Might I offer my services in finding a resolution?โ
โNo. No, thank you.โ The only thing worse than being slapped with a slip-and-fall lawsuitโthe boogeyman of every small business ownerโwas being even more beholden to Aidan Rhodes than I already was. Besides . . . I wasnโt sure what he meant by โfinding a resolution.โ Aidan was one powerful witch. If he got involved, Autumn Jennings might very well wind up walking around looking like a frog.
โYouโre sure?โ Aidan asked. โThese personal injury lawsuits can get nastyโand expensive, even if you win. As much as I hate to say it, you may have some liability here. Is it even legal to have a pig in the city limits?โ
โDonโt worry about it; Iโve got it handled,โ I said, not wishing to discuss the matter any further with him. โWas there some reason in particular you stopped by?โ
Aidan grinned, sending sparkling rays of light dancing in the morning breeze. He really was the most astounding man.
โI was hoping we might have a moment to talk,โ he said. โAbout business.โ
My stomach clenched. Time to face the music. I did owe him, after all. โOf course, come on in.โ
The door to Aunt Coraโs Closet tinkled as we went inside, and Bronwyn fluttered out from the back room, cradling Oscar to her ample chest. She was dressed in billows of purple gauze, and a garland of wildflowers crowned her frizzy brown hair. Bronwyn was a fifty-something Wiccan, and one of the firstโand very bestโfriends I had made upon my arrival in the City by the Bay not so very long ago.
โHello, Aidan! So wonderful to see you again!โ she gushed.
โBronwyn, you light up this shop like fireworks on the Fourth of July.โ
โOh, you do go on.โ She waved her hand but gave him a flirtatious smile. โBut, Lily! Our little Oscaroo is very upset, poor thing! Maybe it has something to do with the woman with the motorcycle helmet who was just hereโwhat was that about?โ
โShe was serving Lily with legal papers,โ said Aidan.
โLegal papers?โ Bronwyn asked as Oscar hid his snout under her arm. โFor what?โ
โRemember when OscarโโI cast about for the right wordโโharassed a woman a couple of weeks ago?โ
Oscar snorted.
โOf course, naughty little tiny piggy pig pig,โ Bronwyn said in a crooning baby voice. โBut I have to say, she really was bothering all of us. But . . . sheโs suing you? Seriously?โ
I nodded. โIโm afraid so.โ
โWell, now, thatโs just bad karma,โ Bronwyn said with a frown.
โYou said she wasnโt hurt, though, right?โ
โShe was fine!โ Bronwyn insisted. โShe fell into the rack of swing dresses. You know how poofy those dresses areโthereโs enough crinolines in the skirts to cushion an NFL linebacker, and sheโs, what, a hundred pounds soaking wet? I saw her just the other day, when I brought her some of my special caramel-cherry-spice matรฉ tea and homemade corn-cherry scones, and she seemed fine. As a matter of fact, when I arrived she was up on a ladder, and she certainly didnโt seem to have any back or neck injuries. She was a little under the weather, but it was a cold or the flu.โ
โWhen was this?โ
โDay before yesterday, I think . . . I thought I should make the effort, since you werenโt even here when it happened. I just wanted to tell her I was sorry.โ
โHow did you know where to find her?โ
โShe left her business card. . . .โ Bronwyn trailed off as she peeked behind her herbal counter. โI have it around here somewhere. Turns out, sheโs a rival vintage clothing store owner, which explains why she was so interested. Her place is called Vintage Visions Glad Rags, over off Buchanan.โ
โReally. That is interesting. Whatโs it like?โ
โVery nice inventory, but if you ask me not nearly as warm and inviting as Aunt Coraโs Closet. She had some ball gowns that Iโm sure were from the nineteenth century. But those are more museum pieces than anything someone would actually wear. The whole place was too snooty for my taste, by half. And expensive! Too rich for my blood.โ
โDid anything happen while you were there? Did she say anything in particular?โ
Bronwyn frowned in thought, then shook her head. โNothing at all. She didnโt seem particularly bowled over by my gift basket, but she accepted it. But like I say, she told me she was a little under the weather, so maybe that accounts for her mood. She did have a very sweet dog, and I always say a pet lover is never irredeemable.โ
โOkay, thanks,โ I said, blowing out a breath. โIf you think of anything else, please let me know. Aidan and I are going to talk in the back for a moment.โ
โIโll keep an eye on things,โ Bronwyn said, lugging Oscar over to her herbal stand for a treat. Oscar was a miniature pig, but he was still a porker.
In the back room Aidan and I sat down at my old jade green Formica-topped table. I bided my time and waited for Aidan to speak first. In witch circles, simply asking โWhat may I help you with?โ can open up a dangerous can of worms.
โI have to leave town for a little while,โ he said.
โReally?โ Even though I knew perfectly well that he had lived elsewhere in the past, including when heโd worked with the father who had abandoned me, in my mind Aidan was so associated with San Francisco that it was hard to imagine him in any other locale. โHow long do you think youโll be gone?โ
โAnd here I was rather hoping you would beg me to stay,โ he said in a quiet voice, his gaze holding mine.
โFar be it from me to dictate to the likes of Aidan Rhodes.โ
He smiled. โIn any case, I need a favor.โ
Uh-oh.
โFirst,โ he said, โIโll need you to keep tabs on Selena.โ
Selena was a talented but troubled teenage witch who had come into my life recently. She reminded me of myself at her age: socially awkward and dangerously magical.
I clenched my teeth. It wasnโt Aidanโs place to tell me to watch over Selena; she needed all of us with whom she had grown close. But it was true that Aidan and I had both been helping her to train her powers. In her case, as in mine, the biggest challenge was learning to keep control over her emotions and her magic in general. But even as he was asking me to partner with him, Aidan still fancied himself the head of the local magical communityโme included. It was very annoying.
โOf course,โ I said. โI have been.โ
โOf course,โ Aidan repeated. โAnd Oscar can come in handy with that as well.โ
I concentrated on reining in my irritation. It wouldnโt do to send something flying, which sometimes happened when I lost my temper. Proving that Selena and I werenโt that far apart in some areas of our development.
โYouโre not Oscarโs master anymore,โ I pointed out.
He nodded slowly. โSo true. Alas, I will leave that in your more than capable hands, then. Also while Iโm gone I need you to fill in for me and adjudicate a few issues. Nothing too strenuous.โ
โBeg pardon?โ
He handed me a heavy, well-worn leather satchel tied with a black ribbon. โYouโre always so curious about what I do for the local witchcraft community. Nowโs your chance to find out.โ
โI never said I wanted to find out. Iโm really perfectly happy being in the dark.โ
Aidan smiled. โWhy do I find that hard to believe? In any event, find out you shall.โ
I sighed. As curious as I was about Aidanโs world, I hesitated to be drawn into it. However, I was in his debt and the bill had come due. โFine. Iโm going to need more information, though. What all is involved in โadjudicating issuesโ?โ
He shrugged. โLittle of this, little of that. Mostly it means keeping an eye on things, making sure nothing gets out of hand. Handling disputes, assisting with certifications . . . Valuable job skills that really beef up the rรฉsumรฉ, youโll see.โ
โUh-huh,โ I said, skeptical. At the moment I didnโt need a more impressive rรฉsumรฉ. I needed a lawyer. โWhat kind of certifications?โ
โFortune-tellers and necromancers must be licensed in the city and county of San Francisco. Surely your good friend Inspector Romero has mentioned this at some point.โ
โHe has, but since Iโm neither a fortune-teller nor a necromancer I didnโt pay much attention. So thatโs what you do? Help people fill out forms down at City Hall? Surelyโโ
โItโs all terribly glamorous, isnโt it? Resolving petty squabbles, unraveling paperwork snafus . . . The excitement never ends,โ he said with another smile. โBut itโs necessary work, and youโre more than qualified to handle it while Iโm gone. Youโll find everything you need in there.โ
I opened the satchel and took a peek. Inside were what appeared to be hundreds of signed notes written on ancient parchment, a business card with the mayorโs cell phone number written on the back in pencil, and a jangly key ring. I pulled out the keys: One was an old-fashioned skeleton key, but the others were modern and, I assumed, unlocked his office at the recently rebuilt wax museum. โAidan, what are . . . ?โ
I looked up, but Aidan was gone, his departure marked by a slight sway of the curtains. Letting out a loud sigh of exasperation, I grumbled, โI swear, that man moves like a vampire.โ
โVampire?โ Bronwyn poked her head through the curtains, Oscar still in her arms. โAre we worried about vampires now?โ
โNo, no, of course not,โ I assured her as I closed the satchel and stashed it under the workroom table. โSorryโjust talking to myself.โ
โOh, thank the goddess!โ said Bronwyn, and set Oscar down. Whenever Aidan was around, Oscar became excited to the point of agitation, and his little hooves clicked on the wooden planks of the floor as he hopped around. โNever a dull moment at Aunt Coraโs Closet.โ
# # # # # # # # # # #
About the author
Juliet Blackwell is the New York Times bestselling author of The Paris Key. She also writes the Witchcraft Mystery series and the Haunted Home Renovation series. As Hailey Lind, Blackwell wrote the Agatha-nominated Art Lover’s Mystery series. A former anthropologist, social worker, and professional artist, Juliet is a California native who has spent time in Mexico, Spain, Cuba, Italy, the Philippines, and France.
Giveaway: Leave a comment below for your chance to win a print copy of A Toxic Trousseau. US entries only, please. The giveaway will end July 7, 2016 at 12 AM EST. Good luck everyone!
All comments are welcomed.
It sounds awesome. I am sad to say that I have never noticed this series before.
I love this series, cannot wait to read it!!
Wow, I can’t believe it’s book 8! How exciting. I’m very much looking forward to reading this one.
This book looks like something I’d like! Thanks for offering this!!
I’m a little behind on this series (still have to read the last book) but this is on the buy list for July 5th to go on the TBR pile. I can’t wait to catch up and read this one.
Another series I have to catch up with.
Love this series so much!
I love a good witchy book. This is definitely on my TBR pile.
I must be under a rock. Another great series that I seem to have not known about.
I have read every book in this series and can not wait to read this one. Thanks for the chance to win.
I love this series and all the great characters in it-the Con being one I expect we will learn more about someday! Can’t wait to read this one. How nice to have a preview today! Thank you Dru> ๐ Thank you to author Juliet as well for the opportunity to win a copy of the book. <3 It certainly is one I am anxious to read. ๐
Yes please Dru, add my name to the magic hat. I own five of the now eight titles in this series and would kill to have this one on my bookshelves.
Thanks Dru Ann for showcasing A Toxic Trousseau. I would love to be included in the giveaway for a copy. Happy 4th of July weekend. robeader53@yahoo.com
I love this series. I would love to win to read and review it. Thank you for the chance Dru๐
Sounds like an exciting read. A new to me series and from the other comments it sounds like one I’d want to delve into. Thanks for the chance.
This sounds like a great book to add to my cozy challenge list. Thanks for a chance to win a copy.
I like the sound of this.
I love Juliet’s books and would greatly appreciate a chance at a copy of this latest book! Thanks for the post.
I love this series. I listen to the audiobooks on my commute. I think there could not be a better narrator for this series.
Love the series. Can’t wait to read this.
This book sounds amazing. Looking forward to reading “A Toxic Trousseau”. Great series. Thanks for the chance.
As a longtime fan of all of Blackwell’s writing, I know that every summer promises a new Lily Ivory mystery. I can’t wait for this one!
This is one of my favourite series and I can’t wait for the newest instalment.
Love to discover new series thx๐
Looks like a Awesome read ! Love to read new series that I have not got a chance to ๐ Thank you for a chance to win !
How can you tease me like this…I love it!
Loved the excerpt! Thank you so much for sharing. This series has some of the best covers.
Love this series! Thanks, Dru, for the preview! Can’t wait to read it!
This series is great. I can’t wait to read this one. I love Oscar. Thanks for the chance!
These witchcraft books are so much fun! Thanks for the giveaway.
suefarrell.farrell@gmail.com
This sounds hilarious…a head butting pig for one thing…lawsuit for another let witchcraft ensue…thank you for the contest.
Marilyn ewatvess@yahoo.com
This excerpt really piques my interest. Looking forward to reading this one.
Great excerpt! Looking forward to checking it out! Thanks for the chance to win!
This book sounds great. Thank you for the chance to win a print copy of A Toxic Trousseau.
love this author and am excited about the new release. Thank you for the chance!