The Bewitching Hour

    Gema raised her hands and closed her eyes. Littered on the chamber floor were rose petals and dried nightshade. The witch swirled her hands into the air and the clutter at her feet began to swirl. The petals melded with the deadly nightshade and rose upward, gathering about Gema's legs and the hem of her long gown.

    The candle in the center of the room flickered, waned, then regained its bright yellow-tipped flame. The rose petals and nightshade rose to swirl around the candle base while Gema chanted her spell and raised her arms. The mixture rose as the flame elongated on the candle. The mix rose upward and circled the flame, then drew the blaze to the tips of the petals. A fragrance of sweet essence fused with the smoke created by the fire. The red petals singed, gave off their aroma, then became engulfed in the blaze.

    The deadly nightshade swirled around the room, hovering near the candle, twirling in the acidic smoke of the flame before gathering at the open window and disappearing into the murky darkness. Gema lowered her arms, leaned on the table. The fire went out, throwing the room into total darkness. The witch snapped her fingers and the overhead light illuminated.

    "You're very good at casting spells, Gema," the Metta remarked, slipping inside the room. She flew to the window seat and stretched out, her cylinder-shaped form draped across a plush pillow. "Did you speak with your mother?"

    "Yes," Gema replied, scrutinizing the old creature. "And how was your flight? I trust you did not annoy any of the townspeople while you were out."

    "No, dear. I merely flew to one end of the town and then the other, although I was tempted to investigate the Scottsdale mansion before I returned. Derrick's Uncle Leonard is busy with party decorations. He has his servants working in the main ballroom."

    Gema shrugged. "Derrick said it would be quite a celebration. He's seems very excited about it." Her brows drew together. "Mother warned me about Uncle Leonard. And I suppose I should warn Derrick."

    "I smelled the rose petals on the breeze and saw the nightshade slip out the window. Is your spell for Derrick or his uncle?"

    "Both." Her cheeks pinked. "I cast a two-fold spell, Midnight. I desire to keep Derrick safe and to deter any ill plans his Uncle Leonard might have in mind."

    "I'm certain the deadly nightshade will do its job, Gema. It is the most powerful herb we have as witches."

    She cocked her head. "I have no intention of allowing Leonard Scottsdale to harm Derrick."

    The Metta nodded, making her amber hair swish lazily. "I understand mortal love is a wonderful thing. Should you desire I tend to Uncle Leonard--"

    "I wish him no harm, Midnight."

    The worm-like creature smiled, displaying fang-like teeth behind pale pink lips. "You may change your mind, my dear, when you learn what Leonard Scottsdale has in store for your beloved Derrick."

    "If you know, why don't you tell me?"

    The Metta wagged one thin finger. "I am here to protect you--not Derrick Scottsdale."

    Shortly after witch Gema McKnight met Professor Derrick Scottsdale, she realized she loved him. A witch in love with a mortal? Even the mystic protector Gema's mother sent to protect her thinks it is a bad idea. The match seems unlikely--but then Halloween arrives and the bewitching hour chimes. Derrick is set to inherit the family fortune--if he can survive the devious plan his Uncle Leonard has arranged. The witch loves the Professor and though she is reluctant to reveal her heritage to him, she refuses to stand by and let him be harmed. Can the young witch foil the evil uncle's plan and save her beloved professor? Will the teacher still want the witch when he witnesses her bizarre talents? Will the centuries old protector stand idly by and allow her young charge to take on evil Uncle Leonard?