Reggie Sinclair is an aging British rock star living in New York City who has just found out he is terminally ill. He also has a very dark secret: When he was still an undiscovered teenager, he sold his soul to the Devil in exchange for his great fame and success. Now, as his life draws to an end, he prepares to face the inevitable until he stumbles upon a very enchanting, modern-day witch named Angela, and her extremely untraditional coven.
Angela gradually introduces Reggie to her world of old school Witchcraft with its roots in alchemy and ‘natural chemistry’ dating to the Dark Ages. As their relationship grows, they devise a plan to break Reggie’s contract and save his soul.
This is a story of the struggle between good and evil with a cast of characters that ranges widely from guardian angels to young witches-in-training. Together, they have to come to terms with love, loss, life decisions and uncertainty to save Reggie from an unbearable eternity. It will also cast an entirely different light on anything you may have ever considered as faith. Here is a plot filled with unexpected twists and surprises to the very last page!
Read an excerpt from one of the chapters!
How fortunate they were to have yet another bright, warm autumn day… he thought to himself as he sat on the bench in Greenwich Village. Across the street, he could see the flow of customers come and go from Angela’s shop. Perhaps it was another good night’s sleep that was contributing to his take on the situation, but whatever the reason, he felt buoyant, eager and filled with curiosity.
He was here to ask questions that he hadn’t even yet formed in his mind. How do you ask someone if they were involved in the unexplainable? Especially when they weren’t even there when it happened? Maybe he didn’t really know why he was here. But here he was, in his hoodie and his sunglasses, sitting on the bench in the mid-afternoon light, anxiously waiting for the ‘Potterheads and the Wannabes’ to thin out before he ventured across the street.
He must have lost track of those coming and going from the little shop among the other happenings and distractions on the street. He suddenly heard the shop bell ring and looked up to see her, standing in the open doorway with her hands on her hips. She stared directly at him as if to say, ‘are you coming in or not!’ He picked himself up off the bench, made his way across the street and followed her through the front door. He entered the shop and seeing they were alone, he removed his hood and shoved his sunglasses into the sweatshirt pocket.
“See, I knew you’d be back…” she started as she took her place behind the counter.
“Well… I’m surprised to say you were right…”
“And you look well-rested, too.”
“Actually, I am. I’ve slept pretty well these past two nights.”
“The Dream Catcher hang in your window OK?”
“How do you know I hung it in my window?” he playfully challenged.
“…Because you did. And because you’re well-rested.”
“Sure of that, are you?”
“Did the pounding wake you up?” The fact that she knew about the pounding in the middle of the night suddenly unsettled him.
“Yes… But how do you know—”
“I said my customers were all Potterheads and Wannabes… I never said I was…”
“Then, just what are you?” he asked with great interest.
“Me? I’m the ‘real deal,’ as they say…”
“Now, come on! Do you really expect me to believe—”
“I don’t care what you believe, I’m just glad to see it all worked out for you…” And then she paused, as if lost in thought and her expression changed to one of more concern. “OK, back here!” She reached across the counter and lightly grabbed his sweatshirt. “Someone’s coming…” she said as she led him around the counter and back into the kitchen.
It was Reggie’s first opportunity to take in this behind-the-scenes glimpse into Angela’s life. Much as he had seen two days before, it was a very dated kitchen with aging appliances and fixtures, yet spotlessly clean. The twin stoves were still covered in various pots and pans all slowly simmering away on a low heat making the kitchen feel cozy, even on this warm, autumn day.
But to his left, along the wall, was a small breakfast table with two chairs completely out of sight from the shop floor. They were old, once painted white, but well-worn with decades of use. She guided him down into the far chair as it groaned slightly in protest under his weight. From here, he was looking towards the shop, but he was concealed from view by the wall behind the counter and on his side, a refrigerator and what he assumed was a closet door.
“I thought you didn’t care who found out I was here?” he asked with mild curiosity. “‘Good for business’ I think you said…”
“That doesn’t mean you want to be discovered. After all, you’re the one with the hood and the sunglasses. Besides, right now I want them buying things, not distracted by the great Reggie Sinclair! So, sit!”
“And what makes you think I’ll obey?” There was a good natured taunting in his voice. She looked at him with a great confidence.
“Because I’m going to give you a potion that immobilizes men…” she said as she reached into the refrigerator behind her and pulled out a long-necked bottle of beer. She twisted off the cap and set it in front of him. “It will also make you very susceptible to suggestion. Now, stay!”
“You are so full of it—” he said starting to laugh. But she snatched up the bottle by its long neck and with her thumb over the opening, she gave it a quick, single shake. As she set it back down, she released the pressure in his direction spraying him in the face. “—OK!” He instantly surrendered and picked up a dish towel off the table top, wiping the beer foam from his face.
“I’m sure they won’t be long, Reggie Sinclair!” she said with a smile as she hesitated in the doorway that led back to her counter.
“What do you say, we just make it… ‘Reggie’. I don’t go around calling you by your full name.”
“That’s because you don’t know it!”
“Even if I did…” he started now realizing what a disadvantage he was at with her.
“Bradbury...” she interrupted. “Angela Bradbury… But Angela will be just fine… Reggie…” and she smiled softly at him. And then, on cue, the bell over the shop door jangled as new customers entered. He could tell by their voices and footsteps on the wooden floor, there were at least three that had come in together. “There’s more potion in the fridge if that one starts to wear off…”
He was here to ask questions that he hadn’t even yet formed in his mind. How do you ask someone if they were involved in the unexplainable? Especially when they weren’t even there when it happened? Maybe he didn’t really know why he was here. But here he was, in his hoodie and his sunglasses, sitting on the bench in the mid-afternoon light, anxiously waiting for the ‘Potterheads and the Wannabes’ to thin out before he ventured across the street.
He must have lost track of those coming and going from the little shop among the other happenings and distractions on the street. He suddenly heard the shop bell ring and looked up to see her, standing in the open doorway with her hands on her hips. She stared directly at him as if to say, ‘are you coming in or not!’ He picked himself up off the bench, made his way across the street and followed her through the front door. He entered the shop and seeing they were alone, he removed his hood and shoved his sunglasses into the sweatshirt pocket.
“See, I knew you’d be back…” she started as she took her place behind the counter.
“Well… I’m surprised to say you were right…”
“And you look well-rested, too.”
“Actually, I am. I’ve slept pretty well these past two nights.”
“The Dream Catcher hang in your window OK?”
“How do you know I hung it in my window?” he playfully challenged.
“…Because you did. And because you’re well-rested.”
“Sure of that, are you?”
“Did the pounding wake you up?” The fact that she knew about the pounding in the middle of the night suddenly unsettled him.
“Yes… But how do you know—”
“I said my customers were all Potterheads and Wannabes… I never said I was…”
“Then, just what are you?” he asked with great interest.
“Me? I’m the ‘real deal,’ as they say…”
“Now, come on! Do you really expect me to believe—”
“I don’t care what you believe, I’m just glad to see it all worked out for you…” And then she paused, as if lost in thought and her expression changed to one of more concern. “OK, back here!” She reached across the counter and lightly grabbed his sweatshirt. “Someone’s coming…” she said as she led him around the counter and back into the kitchen.
It was Reggie’s first opportunity to take in this behind-the-scenes glimpse into Angela’s life. Much as he had seen two days before, it was a very dated kitchen with aging appliances and fixtures, yet spotlessly clean. The twin stoves were still covered in various pots and pans all slowly simmering away on a low heat making the kitchen feel cozy, even on this warm, autumn day.
But to his left, along the wall, was a small breakfast table with two chairs completely out of sight from the shop floor. They were old, once painted white, but well-worn with decades of use. She guided him down into the far chair as it groaned slightly in protest under his weight. From here, he was looking towards the shop, but he was concealed from view by the wall behind the counter and on his side, a refrigerator and what he assumed was a closet door.
“I thought you didn’t care who found out I was here?” he asked with mild curiosity. “‘Good for business’ I think you said…”
“That doesn’t mean you want to be discovered. After all, you’re the one with the hood and the sunglasses. Besides, right now I want them buying things, not distracted by the great Reggie Sinclair! So, sit!”
“And what makes you think I’ll obey?” There was a good natured taunting in his voice. She looked at him with a great confidence.
“Because I’m going to give you a potion that immobilizes men…” she said as she reached into the refrigerator behind her and pulled out a long-necked bottle of beer. She twisted off the cap and set it in front of him. “It will also make you very susceptible to suggestion. Now, stay!”
“You are so full of it—” he said starting to laugh. But she snatched up the bottle by its long neck and with her thumb over the opening, she gave it a quick, single shake. As she set it back down, she released the pressure in his direction spraying him in the face. “—OK!” He instantly surrendered and picked up a dish towel off the table top, wiping the beer foam from his face.
“I’m sure they won’t be long, Reggie Sinclair!” she said with a smile as she hesitated in the doorway that led back to her counter.
“What do you say, we just make it… ‘Reggie’. I don’t go around calling you by your full name.”
“That’s because you don’t know it!”
“Even if I did…” he started now realizing what a disadvantage he was at with her.
“Bradbury...” she interrupted. “Angela Bradbury… But Angela will be just fine… Reggie…” and she smiled softly at him. And then, on cue, the bell over the shop door jangled as new customers entered. He could tell by their voices and footsteps on the wooden floor, there were at least three that had come in together. “There’s more potion in the fridge if that one starts to wear off…”
ANGELA'S COVEN - COMING SOON FROM MUSEITUP PUBLISHING!
Taking inventory of his skills as well as his love of sailing and history, Bruce founded “Great Lakes Cruiser Magazine.” He and his wife, Christine, spent the next ten years traveling the region as he and his staff recorded the local history and told their readers about some of the most wonderful places to visit along the shores of America’s Inland Seas.
Along the way, Bruce had unique access to untold incidents and documentation of the unexplained. He collected and chronicled these experiences in every place he found them, from the shores of Lake Michigan to Upstate New York. As he did so, he was struck by how consistent and similar these accounts were from region to region leading him to the conclusion that all we see may not be all there is to know...
Today, Bruce is pleased to share with you so very many of these real-world experiences and accounts, all pulled together and retold here, in the fictionalized saga of his Cabbottown Witches.
Visit Bruce online at www.covenbooks.com and pn Facebook at
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