Page 3 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)

BLOOD, BAGGAGE & BAD TIMING

Maggie

Crossing the threshold into my apartment was a gut-punch of my emptiness.

No rugs. No warmth. Just hardwood floors staring back at me.

The cream walls looked foreign without my chaos—the jungle of vining plants, the jewel-toned tapestries pretending to be wallpaper, the gothic mirrors, and cluttered shelves full of vintage trinkets I couldn’t stop collecting.

This apartment had been my sanctuary. Now it felt like a ghost of me.

And leaving it, leaving this town, felt like tearing up roots I didn’t realize I cared about.

I collected the random odds and ends that didn’t fit in with any of the labeled boxes and tossed them into a box labeled “MISC.” to most likely never to be seen again.

The reality of moving felt surreal. Sure, I’d moved to different apartments around town, but nothing so far from familiar as Port Grey, Massachusetts.

My phone buzzed on the counter next to the final stack of boxes waiting to begin their journey in the truck.

It was Annie—my boss and guardian angel. I answered and put it on speaker.

“Hey Annie!”

“Hey doll,” her familiar Deep South accent sent a small smile to my face, “I’m just calling to see if you’re ready for your flight. “

Annie came from the depths of the Smoky Mountains as a teen looking for a better life and a way to pay for her mama’s treatments.

She had the kindest soul, but, ooh—get on her bad side and you’d be sorry.

She always told me you could catch more flies with honey, but sometimes a good swat will do just as well.

I wasn’t a hundred percent sure what she meant by that, but she was always supportive.

“I’m getting there.” I took a last scan around the empty living room.

Annie secured this place for me after a dark stretch in my life.

I’d almost lost everything to broken promises, and honestly?

I was about to give up. But Annie stepped in—calm, steady, and kind.

She didn’t save me with a grand gesture, just with the sort of everyday loyalty that most didn’t know how to offer.

She’d become more than just a boss—she was home . Ever since high school, she’d shown up for me—sometimes even more than my mother ever did. Whether I needed a shoulder or a skillet, Annie had both.

And even though I wasn’t exactly chasing promotions or snagging six-figure salaries, she paid me well—off the books, no questions. Sometimes she’d even let me slip a little magic into the mix when business slowed.

“That’s good, dear. How’s that lil dumplin’ doin? Need me to bring over some more crispy fish bites for the little fluff ball?”

“I think he’ll survive.” I scooped up Chester, my grey-and-black stray-turned-son, and buried my nose in his fur. “I’ve got pretty much everything…” I trailed off, stroking his white paws. “But Annie…” I paused.

“What is it, Sugs?”

I hesitated. “I know I’m thirty-six, but I don’t even know how to live without you by my side.” My voice cracked a little.

“Ahh, don’t start crying now, darlin’,” she breathed. “You know if you need me, I’ll be on the next flight faster than a hen on a June bug.”

I could see her in my mind, wiping flour from her hands, that familiar apron stretched tight over her belly, ready with a biscuit and a sharp word for anyone who gave me trouble.

Our little talks over fresh pastries had become ritual.

Comfort. Sanctuary. I didn’t know if FaceTime could compete with that.

“Did you finally tell Jamie you was breaking it off?” She asked.

“In a way...” I grimaced. “Not in time, though. He begged me to stay with him. I thought he’d dodged the spell’s side effects—but I was so wrong.” I glanced out the window, watching the movers hoist my sectional into the truck. “Pretty sure he got fired.”

“Again?” Her voice dipped into that Lord, child tone, like she was already three steps ahead of me and not impressed.

“Well… yes.” I blinked. “But I’ve sworn it off. Seriously. Port Grey is a fresh start. No more love spells. No more enchantment-fueled orgasms. I just needed one last time. You understand, right?”

Silence.

When Annie went quiet, it always meant something was coming—something I probably needed to hear, even if I wanted to hang up.

“Oh, I get it, baby. You needed one last bite before leavin’ the table.”

I smirked. “Exactly. Who knows when I’ll see another dick—let alone touch one that isn’t powered by Energizer.”

She cackled. “Child, I don’t think Massachusetts has enough batteries for you what got planned.”

“Anywho…” I said, “his boss found us in the moving truck.”

“Good lord—y’all fixin’ to get babies one of these days with the amount of sex you’ve been havin’.” She belted out another one of her endearing cackles. “I have my methods, remember.”

“Oh yes,” I pictured her fanning herself next to me—talking about sex always gave her hot flashes. “The Cuncta…Cuncta?—”

“ Cunctanten Contraiis. Hasn’t failed me yet.” For some reason, saying it out loud didn’t make me feel any better. Just because I knew how not to get pregnant, didn’t mean that what I had done for the past twenty years wasn’t wrong.

Surprising as it was, Annie was a big fan of my magic. Why wouldn’t she have been? It benefited her. I brought business, and I was happy to do it—between my lovers trying to follow me home and the trouble I’d get into with my mom—it was a small thing that I could do to help out.

When I still had the grimoire, I learned a few useful spells to lure in more customers on the slow days, and with my hook-ups spending extra amounts of time at the bakery, her business was booming.

Sometimes I wondered how far I’d be had I not spent all these years messing around with quick fucks for funsies.

Would I have actually found Mr. Right? Maybe even a few kids and a big ole farmhouse just outside of town.

Many still considered me young—with my whole life ahead of me—but I felt so far behind. There was nothing wrong with being single my entire life—if that was what I actually wanted—but it wasn’t, and I was getting lonely.

My life wasn’t exactly a shining example of success. I’d worked at Annie’s Bakery since I was a teen. My love life was a giant hairball of bad decisions. Annie was my closest friend—unless you count the umpteen one-night stands—and Chester.

If I were to stand next to Annie in a competition of life, I’d lose, guaranteed.

At fifty-four, she’d already had so much going for her.

She’d managed to pay off all her Mama’s medical bills, buy a real nice house and car with cash, and maintain a booming bakery with hopes of opening a second in a year or two.

She’d had a man or two rotate through her life but was ultimately single by choice and said I was all the babies she ever needed. Still not entirely sure if that was a compliment.

Annie always said I was bound for better things than working in a bakery—sometimes I believed her. Sometimes I thought she was just being kind. But it was easier to frost cupcakes than deal with the thought that maybe she was right—and I was just too scared to find out.

“The move’s gonna be good for ya, Sugabug.” Annie’s encouragement pulled me from my thoughts. “Maybe since you’re putting your magical sex-life on hold, you’re fixin’ to find a real man? One that will love you for you—not your enchantments.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said, scratching the special spot under Chester’s chin—the one that only I could find, the one that started his motor—instantly.

“Remember what happened last time?” My voice cracked before I could stop it.

God, I hated that. Vulnerability always snuck in like a cat burglar, right when I thought I had everything locked up tight.

Annie set me up with Mark. We were together for three years, my longest relationship. I really believed he was it, that he was my Mr. Right. I never cast on him, which in hindsight may have been the problem. We were even engaged—the wedding was only weeks away.

Then I was blindsided. Not the Hollywood kind where you cry in the rain and become stronger. The real kind. The kind that makes you stare at a wall for three days wondering if your toothbrush even mattered anymore.

After finishing an extra long shift, I arrived home to find Mark entangled with some slut in our living room. The sight still haunted me frequently. I loved him so much. I was loyal, but he couldn’t return the favor. I wanted to kill him, her, and anyone that got in my way.

My purse became my weapon of choice, striking both their bare asses, their heads, and any other part I could get to. The sight of his freshly fucked cock just pissed me off more, so I set the couch on fire.

Yes, literally.

The fact that they were still on it didn’t cross my mind until they scrambled to the kitchen calling me a crazy lunatic.

It was simply an error of judgment, fueled with the instant rage consuming me.

I didn’t actually want them dead—just emotionally inconvenienced for the rest of their lives.

I wasn’t a monster. Just…motivated. I wanted him to hurt the way he’d hurt me.

How could you do that to someone you “loved”?

Come to find out, Mark had been allergic to loyalty since day one—over twenty women in three years. And since I found out he had a habit of dipping his dick into uncharted waters while he was otherwise betrothed… I cursed it.

Yes.

I cursed his dick—and only his dick.

The way I saw it, I was doing the women he dated a favor.

The aftermath was almost poetic. Mark’s dick underwent a lasting transformation, losing its “potency” and “wilting” just before he came.

That way, the women could still get some enjoyment—but he’d be left with the frustration of never experiencing the satisfaction of an orgasm again.

He was perpetually blue-balled. Just thinking about the disappointment that he must have felt, brought me the most deranged enjoyment every time it crossed my mind.