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  BATTLE OF THE HEXES

  HEX SISTERS

  KINSLEY ADAMS

  Copyright © 2022 by Kinsley Adams, Author

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.

  This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.

  The Author of this Book has been granted permission by Robyn Peterman to use the copyrighted characters and/or worlds created by Robyn Peterman in this book. All copyright protection to the original characters and/or worlds of the Magic and Mayhem series is retained by Robyn Peterman.

  FOREWORD

  Blast Off with us into the Magic and Mayhem Universe!

  I’m Robyn Peterman, the creator of the Magic and Mayhem Series and I’d like to invite you to my Magic and Mayhem Universe.

  What is the Magic and Mayhem Universe, you may ask?

  Well, let me explain…

  It’s basically authorized fan fiction written by some amazing authors that I stalked and blackmailed! KIDDING! I was lucky and blessed to have some brilliant authors say yes! They have written brand new stories using my world and some of my characters. And let me tell you…the results are hilarious!

  So here it is! Blast off with us into the hilarious Magic and Mayhem Universe. Side splitting books by fantabulous authors! Check out each and every one. You will laugh your way to a magical HEA!

  For all the stories, go to https://magicandmayhemuniverse.com/.

  Grab your copy today!

  And if you would like to read the book that started all the madness, Switching Hour is FREE!

  https://robynpeterman.com/switching-hour/

  BLURB

  Exile is a fancy five-letter word, and one I didn't take seriously until Baba Yaga sentenced me to life here in Cold-as-Balls, Alberta. Canada, ya’ll. Seriously. My southern blood can’t handle all this snow and ice. And there’s no summer in sight either, thanks to some ex-witch-bitch with an inflated ego who thought it’d be funny to curse this town into endless winter. A curse I’m charged with breaking.

  Even worse? That ex-witch is also the ex-wife of the local alpha werewolf, who may have just claimed me as his mate. He may look yummier than a donut dipped in honey, but I’m not interested in commitment, no matter how much I may be tempted.

  Frozen wastelands, a jealous ex, and a sexier-than-sin mate is more than enough to make me want to strap on some snowshoes and get the heck “oot” of here. Unfortunately, true love’s kiss is the only thing that can break this curse and free me from this hellhole. Ha! Someone really got their wires crossed when they chose me for this task. True love ain’t nothing but a fairytale. Right?

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Also by Kinsley Adams

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  “So, aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?”

  I snorted so loud, I nearly choked on my tongue. That pickup line was so cheesy, it gave me indigestion. Thankfully, the comment hadn’t been directed at me. Otherwise, I might have reached for the nearby saucer of cream and dumped it all over his boy-band-styled hair.

  Unfortunately, his date wasn’t as skeptical as me.

  In fact, she was lapping it up. Nausea churned in my gut when she twirled a lock of blonde hair around her modestly filed fingernail and giggled. Giggled.

  Ugh. Girl, please.

  Casanova was only here as part of a bet, one I’d seen him hash out with his two “bros” a few days ago. The goal? To see how many girls they could “hump and dump” before the end of the week. Casanova had scored two already, while his friends—we’ll call them Romeo and Lothario, respectively—had each nailed one.

  Why they’d chosen my cupcake shop as their hunting grounds, I had no idea. Maybe they felt this environment was better suited to picking up women as opposed to obnoxiously loud bars teeming with competition.

  Either way, I had to admit, the boy had talent. The coy tilt of the head, the teasing smile, hell, his eyes never once wavered from hers. He had mad flirting skills. But I knew the truth, and so did my two sisters. Which was why we’d established a side bet—to see who could come up with the best punishment.

  We’d each claimed one of the bros. And Casanova was all mine.

  What was the prize, you ask? Why, a shiny new cauldron, complete with accessories, compliments of the losing sisters. And since I wasn’t willing to fork up the dough, I had to win. Which meant it was time to get down to business and cast a spell on this cockwaffle.

  I drummed my stiletto nails against the counter as I contemplated his punishment. Jackasses like him were my specialty. I loved cursing cheaters and players. My nails tapped to a certain beat as I weighed my options. I’d already turned one man into a pig a few weeks ago and another into a snake the week before that. I could change Casanova into a rat, but that didn’t feel special enough. Transfiguration wouldn’t win me as many points this time.

  No, my sisters would want something different from me. Something more. Something truly diabolical and worthy of these pricks.

  My lips curled as inspiration struck. Bastards like this deserved only the best, and I had the purrfect idea. How about permanent impotence? Curse Mr. Winky to a life full of flaccid regret and disappointment. I’d never gone this far before. But Casanova was a special case, one that demanded special attention.

  “Goddess on high, come to my aid.

  Teach these pricks what it means to be played.

  For all the women they’ve left unsated,

  Let them know what it means to be metaphorically castrated.”

  With a subtle wave of my hand that looked more like I was brushing hair back from my face, I cast the spell. It flowed out of me in a cloud of golden light that humans never seemed to notice. They were so blind to the world surrounding them.

  Good for me and my sisters.

  Bad for Casanova.

  I couldn’t help but laugh when he put his cupcake back down on the plate and started to squirm. He wouldn’t notice the full effects until he and Blondie took to the sheets, but it still gave me a happy to see him worming around in his seat.

  I licked the tip of my finger, then pantomimed a check mark. Confident I’d won this bet, I turned and busied myself behind the counter. Growing up, I never would have pictured myself running a cupcake shop, but Kaci and Winter had convinced me.

  Winter was the baker, Kaci the people pleaser, and according to them, I was the brains that kept the place running. Yeah, I’d gotten the shitty end of the stick—the part that required running numbers. I hated math. And even more, hated that I was great at it. But I would do anything for my sisters, including owning one-third of a cutesy little shop called Sugar & Spice Cupcakes. According to my sisters, I was the spice.

  Did I agree?

  I turned and stared at Casanova as he mindlessly scratched at his crotch.

  Oh yeah,
I was the spice, all right.

  The world was a tough place for soft cookies like my sisters. They needed someone like me. Our whole lives, I’d taken care of them, made the tough decisions, and kicked a little ass whenever needed. And I didn’t mind one bit.

  The bell above the front door chimed as the ladies in question strode inside. They were huddled together and giggling. I could only imagine what about. My own lips curled upward at the sight of them.

  Skin bronzed from the Arizona sun, they appeared to be two women in the prime of their lives. They even looked similar—which had always startled me when we were younger, considering we weren’t blood relatives. But with Kaci’s blonde hair, and Winter’s nearly white strands, along with their shared height, they looked like true sisters. Then there was me, the darkness to their light. My long black locks were more reminiscent of Snow White, which always made us laugh, considering I had more in common with the Evil Queen than some dewy-eyed princess.

  They skipped toward the counter with matching grins. I turned away from the register, eager to hear what had put them in such good moods. “And what are you two giggling about?”

  Kaci glanced over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing at Casanova. “We found his buddies a few doors down, getting their beards trimmed for their dates tonight. We figured no time like the present to exact a little vengeance.”

  My smile grew. “Is that so?” I leaned forward on the counter, my elbows braced against the cooled top. “Do tell.”

  “Well, Winter decided to curse her guy with early on-set baldness. He’ll start to lose his hair once he leaves the barber.”

  A wicked twinkle lit Winter’s eyes. I raised my hand and waited. The second she spotted it, she grinned and slapped our hands together in celebration.

  “And you?” I asked Kaci.

  “I gave my guy a terrible case of IBS,” Kaci said, laughing. “He has a date with one of his conquests tonight, but I highly doubt he’ll be able to go. Poor thing bolted out of the shop, clutching his stomach.”

  Laughter rushed past my lips. I had to admit, I was shocked. Kaci was the gentlest witch I’d ever met. I’d expected something more along the line of cursing him with unending hiccups or an itchy backside—something slightly malicious, but nothing too terrible. She’d proved me wrong, though. And I adored her for it.

  “What about you, Zo?” Winter asked.

  I shot Casanova another glance, my shoulders shaking with laughter as I watched him stumble out the door. Poor thing was so bowlegged, it looked like he’d been riding a horse bareback all day. I only hoped I hadn’t actually castrated him. Although… it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it. If he was going to misuse his dick, why not take it from him? The best part of all this was his date’s perplexed expression. She had to be wondering if he had crabs or something.

  “Permanent impotence for mine,” I said, chuckling. “Mr. Winky won’t be coming out to play anytime soon. Like the next century.”

  Kaci gasped and Winter choked on her breath, a hand flying to her throat.

  “You didn’t!” Kaci exclaimed.

  I shrugged, then pushed off the counter and rose to my full five-foot-nine height. Kaci and Winter both stood a few inches shorter. “What was it our foster parents always said? If we can’t play nicely—‍”

  “We can’t play at all,” Kaci and Winter chimed in, their voices matching in tone and cadence.

  The three of us descended into laughter. I highly doubted this was the lesson our foster parents had hoped to impart, but alas…

  “We could get in a lot of trouble for this,” Kaci said, still chuckling.

  “We could get into a lot of trouble for a lot of things we do,” I countered.

  “True. But it feels so good to be bad,” Winter finished, winking at me.

  That it did. That. It. Did.

  After years of having to hide our true selves from our foster parents, we’d relished the freedom when we aged out of the system. We’d promised each other we’d never hide again. A promise we’d kept in the many years since.

  “I should get back into the kitchen,” Kaci said. “I need to get working on tomorrow’s orders, one of which is three dozen cupcakes in the shape of a tiered cake for a baby shower.”

  My mouth twisted. That sounded truly terrible. Why couldn’t we make cupcakes for something cooler than baby showers and weddings? What about an AA meeting, or heck, maybe even a parole party? Something other than fawning women and streamers and unending questions like “Oh, Zoey, when are you going to tie the knot?” Or “Oh, Zoey, surely, you’re almost ready for babies too, right?”

  Gag me. No thank you.

  Was it some unwritten rule that women over thirty had to have all those things? I enjoyed my freedom. The absolute last thing I wanted was to be tied down by a man. Unless it was in the bedroom.

  “Get crack-a-lacking,” I told Kaci. “Winter, why don’t you check on our remaining customers and make sure they don’t need anything else. I’ll keep plugging in the numbers.” As I always did.

  On the count of three, we shouted break, then went our separate ways.

  The next few hours passed quietly. The mid-afternoon rush came and went, with more than a few leaving plentiful tips that had us smiling and more than a little sore on the feet.

  Winter stretched out her back and sighed. “I need better shoes.”

  My gaze dropped to the horrendous no-name sneakers she wore. They were so faded, I could barely make out their original color.

  “Not arguing that,” I told her.

  She playfully rolled her eyes, then headed behind the counter to start cleaning. She’d just grabbed a nearby cloth when I sensed a disturbance in the force. My head slowly rose as the surrounding atmosphere began to shift, culminating in the open sign flicking to “closed” all on its own. I blinked and started toward the sign when suddenly, silver and peach glitter started raining down on us.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  This was so bad.

  “Ladies!” I shouted, panic raising my voice to an octave only dogs could hear. “Incoming!”

  The kitchen door swung open, and Kaci poked her head out. “Incoming what?”

  All the lights in the bakery started to flicker, answering Kaci’s question. She squealed and bolted out of the kitchen, practically diving behind my back. Winter inched closer, a broom now held defensively in her hands as a neon flashing sign began descending from the ceiling, its garish bulbs illuminating the name Baba Yaga.

  “This is bad,” Kaci whispered. “So very bad.”

  Ya, doi. I already knew it was bad. Baba Yaga was the leader of all witches, and she never stopped by just because. When she visited lesser witches—like us—it was because she was about to drop a bomb.

  “She knows,” Winter commented, holding the broom in front of her, as though it could ward off the incoming shitshow.

  “We don’t know that,” I whisper-hissed. “Don’t say a word. Let me handle this.”

  The leader of the witches popped into existence in a swirl of colorful smoke and deafening ’80s music. I winced and stepped back, my heel coming down on Kaci’s foot. She sucked in a breath but didn’t curse me out.

  Things were too dire for that.

  “Well, well, well,” Baba Yaga cooed. “If it isn’t the Hex Sisters.”

  That sentence alone should have terrified the effing bejesus out of me, but I was too stunned by the sight of the most powerful witch in existence appearing out of nowhere in what looked like a lime green Jazzercise onesie. Hot pink matching leg and arm warmers covered her limbs, and her hair… oh goddess, her hair. She must have used an entire can of hairspray to get that back-combed look.

  I blinked and watched as the glaringly bright witch stalked toward us.

  “I assume you know why I’m here?”

  I pressed a little harder on Kaci’s foot to ensure she remained silent. “Not a clue, sorry.”

  Her all-knowing gaze shot to me, and a sharp feline grin spread acr
oss her face. “So, you’re the ringleader then. Miss Zoey Chattox.”

  Oh damn. Did I mention how bad this was? Because it was bad. Really bad.

  “What was it…?” She tapped her cheek. “Oh yes, eternal impotence.”

  “Permanent,” I mumbled, not that it mattered. We were busted. At least eternal impotence sounded better for my rap sheet.

  “Do you ladies not remember the rules? We are good witches. White witches. We do not use our magic to deliver what you believe is justice.”

  Well, she didn’t. But we sure as heck did.

  Her eyes narrowed, as though she could hear my thoughts. Oh goddess, maybe she could. She was Baba Yaga, after all. Last I heard, she was thirty-five going on three hundred. The more powerful the witch, the slower we aged, and this was the most powerful witch in the world. Who knew the extent of her magic?

  “This sort of behavior is what earns you a one-way ticket to the pokey.”

  Winter sucked in a sharp breath.

  “You do know what the pokey is, don’t you?” She grinned at me. She knew I knew. She was just toying with her food.

  “A prison for witches who abuse magic.”

  “Good. So, how does thirty years sound?”

  “Thirty years!” Kaci shouted.

  “Impotence, baldness, IBS, illegal transfiguration, need I go on?”

  I ground my teeth together to keep from speaking up. It didn’t matter what we said. Baba Yaga had come with our punishment already in mind, and nothing we said would turn the tides in our favor.