The Alpha’s Mate
Chapter One
26th September
Rosalee Bennett dropped her suitcase to the floor and spun around the room slowly, trying to take it all in. She was stood in the living room of Iris Bennett’s house. Although technically now it was her house.
It was a masterpiece of chintzy furniture, faded floral patterns and tacky porcelain figures. Shelves wrapped around the walls and were filled to bursting point with huge, old dusty books. It was definitely an old lady house.
She wrinkled her nose in thought. There was something off about the room. What was it? A TV! There was no TV.
She investigated the other rooms. A dining room filled with a massive table surrounded by eight high backed chairs, it looked like was borrowed from a medieval castle, and there were yet more books. There was a large much used kitchen which held an unbearably strong smell of disinfectant. Thank god she wasn’t much of a cook, she would avoid that room as much as possible. She had a downstairs bathroom that, unlike the other rooms which hadn’t been decorated since about 1977, actually looked new . There was a small laundry room that for some reason held a washer dryer and a mangle – god she hoped the washer dryer worked. There was no way she would use a mangle.
Finally there was a small office, or at least what she thought was an office. There was no computer, printer, paper shredder, file cabinet or anything else a normal office would have. Instead there was a huge mahogany desk with a battered green leather wing back chair. The surface was empty save for, strangely enough, a magnifying glass. She picked it up and twisted it in her hands. Iris Bennett was certainly old fashioned.
She had never met Iris. She didn’t know of her existence until two days ago when she had been approached by a very harassed looking lawyer. He had been searching for her and apparently resented the fact that she had moved to a different city four times in the past year.
He explained that Iris, who was in fact her grandmother, had died and left her house and possessions to Rosalee. This included a moderately large sum of money to be split between her and her mother Violet who was Iris’ daughter.
Rosalee frowned again thinking of her mother. Her whole life her mother had never talked about their family. At one time Rosalee had been curious and had asked about grandparents and her father, but Violet had broken apart and cried. She begged Rosalee never to ask her again. Rosalee not wanting to hurt her had complied. Anyway, she figured that if any of her family members had wanted to see her they would have made the effort to find her. Who needed them?
It had always been the two of them. And to be honest Rosalee liked it that way. They were more like sisters, fiercely protective of one another and always ready with advice and a shoulder to cry on.
Rosalee went back to the living room and chewed her bottom lip. Had her mother really grown up here? It was a lot better than the hell hole she had imagined over the years, but there something almost suffocating about this place.
Judging by the dusty tomes of books Iris was also a witch. Rosalee had grown up knowing that her mother had some magic, it was never a secret. So it wasn’t surprising Iris would be one too. Rosalee on the other hand was just plain old fashioned human. Couldn’t cast a spell to save her life. Violet had never cared about it, and rarely used magic herself, so it had never really come up much through their lives.
Violet preferred to live as a human. She had only used small spells every now and again, such as a glamour spell to conceal a blemish and to stop it raining on her new suede shoes. Violet was quite adept at manipulating weather. All witches could cast spells using words to varying degrees of success but each had some kind of innate ability that needed no words.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket and tried to call her mother again. It went straight to voicemail again. Since finding out about this place she had tried to call and text Violet dozens of times. All without reply.
Inheriting this place could not have come at a better time. She was in between jobs whilst waiting for a call from her temp agency, she had split with her latest boyfriend and the rent on her apartment was about to double thanks to new management who were trying to drive the tenants out. It was the perfect time to relocate. Things had worked out well. Well not so much for Iris.
On hearing the news she had asked the agency to take her off their books, given notice on her apartment and had given all of her exes belongings he had forgotten to take with him to charity. Cheating butthole. She had packed up her beetle with all her belongings and had headed to the town of Rose.
She wondered at her mother partially naming her after the town she couldn’t even bear to talk about. Driving through it had seemed like such a quiet and sweet little place. Hard to believe her grandmother had been murdered here. The lawyer had been sketchy about the details but he had intimated that it had been pretty bad.
26th September
Rosalee Bennett dropped her suitcase to the floor and spun around the room slowly, trying to take it all in. She was stood in the living room of Iris Bennett’s house. Although technically now it was her house.
It was a masterpiece of chintzy furniture, faded floral patterns and tacky porcelain figures. Shelves wrapped around the walls and were filled to bursting point with huge, old dusty books. It was definitely an old lady house.
She wrinkled her nose in thought. There was something off about the room. What was it? A TV! There was no TV.
She investigated the other rooms. A dining room filled with a massive table surrounded by eight high backed chairs, it looked like was borrowed from a medieval castle, and there were yet more books. There was a large much used kitchen which held an unbearably strong smell of disinfectant. Thank god she wasn’t much of a cook, she would avoid that room as much as possible. She had a downstairs bathroom that, unlike the other rooms which hadn’t been decorated since about 1977, actually looked new . There was a small laundry room that for some reason held a washer dryer and a mangle – god she hoped the washer dryer worked. There was no way she would use a mangle.
Finally there was a small office, or at least what she thought was an office. There was no computer, printer, paper shredder, file cabinet or anything else a normal office would have. Instead there was a huge mahogany desk with a battered green leather wing back chair. The surface was empty save for, strangely enough, a magnifying glass. She picked it up and twisted it in her hands. Iris Bennett was certainly old fashioned.
She had never met Iris. She didn’t know of her existence until two days ago when she had been approached by a very harassed looking lawyer. He had been searching for her and apparently resented the fact that she had moved to a different city four times in the past year.
He explained that Iris, who was in fact her grandmother, had died and left her house and possessions to Rosalee. This included a moderately large sum of money to be split between her and her mother Violet who was Iris’ daughter.
Rosalee frowned again thinking of her mother. Her whole life her mother had never talked about their family. At one time Rosalee had been curious and had asked about grandparents and her father, but Violet had broken apart and cried. She begged Rosalee never to ask her again. Rosalee not wanting to hurt her had complied. Anyway, she figured that if any of her family members had wanted to see her they would have made the effort to find her. Who needed them?
It had always been the two of them. And to be honest Rosalee liked it that way. They were more like sisters, fiercely protective of one another and always ready with advice and a shoulder to cry on.
Rosalee went back to the living room and chewed her bottom lip. Had her mother really grown up here? It was a lot better than the hell hole she had imagined over the years, but there something almost suffocating about this place.
Judging by the dusty tomes of books Iris was also a witch. Rosalee had grown up knowing that her mother had some magic, it was never a secret. So it wasn’t surprising Iris would be one too. Rosalee on the other hand was just plain old fashioned human. Couldn’t cast a spell to save her life. Violet had never cared about it, and rarely used magic herself, so it had never really come up much through their lives.
Violet preferred to live as a human. She had only used small spells every now and again, such as a glamour spell to conceal a blemish and to stop it raining on her new suede shoes. Violet was quite adept at manipulating weather. All witches could cast spells using words to varying degrees of success but each had some kind of innate ability that needed no words.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket and tried to call her mother again. It went straight to voicemail again. Since finding out about this place she had tried to call and text Violet dozens of times. All without reply.
Inheriting this place could not have come at a better time. She was in between jobs whilst waiting for a call from her temp agency, she had split with her latest boyfriend and the rent on her apartment was about to double thanks to new management who were trying to drive the tenants out. It was the perfect time to relocate. Things had worked out well. Well not so much for Iris.
On hearing the news she had asked the agency to take her off their books, given notice on her apartment and had given all of her exes belongings he had forgotten to take with him to charity. Cheating butthole. She had packed up her beetle with all her belongings and had headed to the town of Rose.
She wondered at her mother partially naming her after the town she couldn’t even bear to talk about. Driving through it had seemed like such a quiet and sweet little place. Hard to believe her grandmother had been murdered here. The lawyer had been sketchy about the details but he had intimated that it had been pretty bad.