Splintered Magic: A Paranormal Women's Midlife Fiction (Splintered Magic, Book 1)

Splintered Magic Series Splinter Cat: Book .5 Splintered Magic: Book 1 Splintered Veil: Book 2* Splintered Fate: Book 3* *Forthcoming Splintered Magic SPLINTERED MAGIC SERIES BOOK ONE JILLEEN DOLBEARE 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 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Please Review Splintered Magic Splintered Veil About the Author Also by Jilleen Dolbeare Splintered Magic Jilleen Dolbeare Copyright © 2023 Editor: Cissell Ink Cover Designer: Crimson Phoenix Creations Interior Art: Rose Rasmussen All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any form including digital, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, uploading, or by any information storage and retrieval system without prior written consent of the author except for brief quotes for use in reviews. Created with Vellum I dedicate this book to the people that have supported and encouraged me along the way. To my mom, who taught me to love sci-fi and fantasy. I wouldn’t be anything without you! To my husband for not getting upset when I’m busy with the books. To my Mastermind Group, thanks so much! To my niece, Baylee Rose who read everything, kept me focused, made suggestions, and for her brilliant art. And to all my alpha and beta and ARC readers. Thank you all! Chapter One The rain pounded down so hard I could barely see the turnoff. The tension in my shoulders after my long drive fueled a pounding headache. I rubbed my right shoulder with my left hand and almost missed the turn into the long winding driveway to the house. I slammed on the brakes and turned sharply. The trailer swayed behind me, causing the car to slide on the wet road. I gasped in fear. I turned the steering wheel to compensate and made the hard turn onto the gravel road. My heart pounded. I stopped the car once I’d pulled fully off the highway. The long gravel drive stretched in front of me. I turned off the car and panted. I wiped the sweat that had formed at my hairline with a napkin that was sitting in the passenger seat and waited until my heart slowed down and the adrenaline shakes calmed. It was late afternoon, but the heavy grey sky and rain hid everything but the dark expense of woods ahead. I shivered. Anticipation and fear grasped my throat and choked me. This was a huge moment. The biggest thing I’d ever done on my own. I took a deep breath, stretched my neck, and started the car back up. The road was narrow, and though the gravel had been laid recently, it was intimidating with the trailer behind me. Regardless, the excitement boiled up. I hadn’t seen the old house in person since the renovation had begun. It had been my favorite place, full of happy memories with my parents and grandmother. Although they weren’t there anymore, I finally felt like I was coming home. The drive up was only a couple of miles from the highway, but the anticipation made it drag on. When I finally cleared the trees and the house loomed in front of me, I gasped. Instead of a lovely home, it was a freaking haunted house. The paint was mostly gone—what was left was peeling and ugly. Only the weathered grey siding in need of repair greeted me. Patches of old paint here and there that had been protected by the eaves showed the original color like glimpses of happiness through a good, solid cry. A wave of disappointment washed over me. This wasn’t what I’d been expecting. I guess I’d thought the restoration would be further along. The restoration company had informed me that the roof was done, and the important parts were ready. I had a working kitchen, one bathroom, and a finished bedroom. While the rest was being done, I’d be marginally warm and comfortable. I sighed. It was a going to be a long haul. The rain had slackened off to a drizzle, so after I pulled in front of the house, I got out and soaked in the rich smells of home—evergreens, like Christmas, and the wet clean rain. I walked up the front steps to the porch—areas patched with new wood—and smiled. It would be the glorious Victorian it was meant to be, and I was responsible for that. My heart swelled. I found the correct key on the ring sent by the restoration company and turned it in the front door lock. I took in the construction mess as I walked in and smelled fresh sawdust. The grand foyer was full of sawhorses, equipment I couldn’t name, boards, and tools. I moved quickly between the kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom. Whelan Restoration had delivered as promised. Luckily, my bed had been delivered and the frame and mattresses had been assembled for me. One of the workers must be a gem. In the kitchen, the old country table was still there from my childhood, so the previous owners must have left it. I hoped some of the old furniture was still in the attic, but I had no idea what the previous owners had done or sold off when they ran out of funds and abandoned the house to the bank. I’d investigate later. I went back out, brought in my suitcases, and started to haul in the items from my trailer. There weren’t many. Mostly treasures from my childhood—photos, and basic items like towels, bedding, plates, and cookware. That took a couple of hours, and when I was done, I was muddy, soaked, and exhausted. I’d used my adrenaline from seeing the house to finish those tasks, and now the travel and the moving hit me. As I dragged in the last box, I spotted a cat sitting by the door. He was a beautiful tom, huge, pushing twenty pounds