The Seventh Key
The Seventh Key
A Paranormal Women's Fiction Romance Novel
Michelle M. Pillow
MichellePillow.com
The Seventh Key © Copyright 2022 by Michelle M. Pillow
First Electronic Printing November 29, 2022
Published by The Raven Books LLC
ISBN 9781625013132
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
All books copyrighted to the author and may not be resold or given away without written permission from the author, Michelle M. Pillow.
This novel is a work of fiction. Any and all characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events or places is merely coincidence.
Michelle M. Pillow® is a registered trademark of The Raven Books LLC
Contents
About the Book
Order of Magic Series
Author Updates
Author Note
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
Get the Books!
Newsletter
About Michelle M. Pillow
Free Reading Guides
Please Leave a Review
About the Book
Unlucky number seven.
Nina Cole thought escaping a serial killer would be the hardest thing she ever had to face. When a reporter comes sniffing around wanting her to relive the trauma, she feels she has no choice but to pack up and move to a place where no one knows her. Starting over in her forties is easier said than done. Bad memories aren’t the only thing chasing her. The killer might be in jail, but now it looks like something much more sinister from beyond the grave is hunting her.
Fortunately, there seems to be no shortage of magical assistance in Freewild Cove. But will it be enough? Can her new friends and a secret love interest help Nina survive the latest chapter in her unlucky life?
Order of Magic Series
Second Chance Magic
Third Time's A Charm
The Fourth Power
The Fifth Sense
The Sixth Spell
The Seventh Key
The Eighth Potion
Visit MichellePillow.com for details!
Author Updates
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http://michellepillow.com/author-updates/
To the Pillow Fighter Fan Club
Author Note
Being an author in my 40s, I am thrilled to be a part of this Paranormal Women’s Fiction #PWF project. Older women kick ass. We know things. We’ve been there. We are worthy of our own literature category. We also have our own set of issues that we face—empty nests, widows, divorces, menopause, health concerns, etc—and these issues deserve to be addressed and embraced in fiction.
Growing older is a real part of life. Women friendships matter. Women matter. Our thoughts and feelings matter.
If you love this project as much as I do, be sure to spread the word to all your reader friends and let the vendors where you buy your books know you want to see a special category listing on their sites for 40+ heroines in Paranormal Women’s Fiction and Romance.
Happy Reading!
Michelle M. Pillow
Praise for Michelle M. Pillow
For Books in the Order of Magic Series
"[T]he cast of women and their bond resonates. This is a delight." Publishers Weekly
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“The perfect combination of spine-tingling magic, paranormal fun, and the strength of female friendships. Michelle M. Pillow delivers an emotionally powerful, must-have read.” - K.F. Breene, Wall Street Journal, USA TODAY, and Washington Post Bestselling Author
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“Michelle M. Pillow's Second Chance Magic proves that sometimes all it takes to get a second chance after a massive betrayal, is a little luck, a lot of magic, and the help of your best friends.” - Mandy M. Roth, NY Times & USA TODAY Bestselling Author
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“Second Chance Magic starts with a bang and does not slow down! It’s a beautifully written story of starting over and finding your inner power. Highly recommended.” - Elizabeth Hunter, USA TODAY Bestselling Author of the Elemental Mysteries
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“Michelle M. Pillow brings us yet another hilariously touching story, this one set in the world of paranormal women’s fiction, and you won’t want to put it down. I know I didn’t! Then again, she had me at séance.” - NY Times Bestselling Author Darynda Jones
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"When the past and the present merge…awesome author Michelle Pillow brings secrets from the grave and other things that go bump in the night into a fantastic story of second chances in the second act of life." - Jana DeLeon, NY Times, USA TODAY, & Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author
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“Delightfully heartfelt and filled with emotion. Psychic powers, newly discovered magic, and a troublesome ex who comes back from the grave. Michelle M. Pillow delivers a wonderfully humorous start to a new paranormal women's fiction romance series.” - Robyn Peterman, NY Times and USA TODAY Bestselling Author
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“Second Chance Magic is full of heart and everything I love in a paranormal tale. Great friends, second chances, and physic powers... what's not to love?” - Deanna Chase, NYT and USA Today Bestselling Author
Chapter One
Prologue
Sallyville, North Carolina
The slap of wet pavement under her feet echoed over the empty sidewalk. Every other step caused a sting to shoot up her leg. The thin material of the pale blue hospital gown did little to hide her from the elements as she passed between awnings into the rain. It clung to her skin, stained pink in areas from the injuries beneath.
Her mind drifted through a terrible haze, and she couldn’t remember her name, where she was, or why. All she knew was she had to run, had to get away from the thing hurting her.
It became impossible to tell where her pain radiated from. Breathing too deeply hurt. The wet material clinging to her back grated like metal against raw skin. Her arm felt too heavy to lift.
Each awning gave reprieve from the weather, except for the wet puddles gathering on the uneven surfaces. Light came from one of the windows. She passed through it, unable to focus on anything happening inside of the building. All she could do was move forward—rain, awning, rain, awning, soaked, wet, soaked…
Street.
She stopped at the curb, confused at the break in her pattern. Rain pelted her from above. The sound of a car caught her attention and she stared at two looming headlights. They grew from the darkness, prompting a fearful reaction as she darted in front of it to run past.
Tires squealed as the car slammed on its brakes. Then, darkness.
Chapter Two
Freewild Cove, North Carolina, Sixteen Months Later…
Lucky.
Nina Cole didn’t feel lucky, but people loved to use that word to describe her. Lucky to have survived. Lucky to have gotten away. Lucky that Robert Chester Teeter was in jail awaiting trial. Lucky number seven.
Fucking lucky.
Nightmares didn’t feel very lucky when she had to relive them every night. Or when she jumped at every accidental brush of someone’s hand. Too traumatized to date or walk alone at night or sit with her back to a door where she couldn’t see everything. She felt watched even when alone. Like now.
A short string of dust floating in the light captured her attention and held it. The sunlight crept between the slats of a blind from the window of her new rental house. The dust disappeared into a shadow.
She’d been there three days and, though she was surrounded by her meager furniture, it felt like a vacation home. Cardboard boxes lined one of the bedroom walls, waiting to be unpacked. A few of them were open, draped with shirts from when she’d dug through them. A black garbage bag filled with her jeans and socks was torn open on the floor.
Nina found it difficult to summon the energy to unpack. She found it difficult to do a lot of things lately. What if this town didn’t work out? What if everyone realized who she was? What if reporters came sniffing around her front lawn again?
The district attorney had said she would try to keep Nina out of the papers. Delany meant well, but it would take an act of pure magic to keep what happened out of the news. And Nina had stopped believing in magic around the same time she learned the truth about Santa Claus.
Freewild Cove felt about as safe as she could get. It wasn’t home, and she had no reason to move there, which meant people wouldn’t think to look for her.
Safe.
Lucky.
People put more meaning into those words than they should. Safe and lucky were more an illusion than an actual state of being.
“Safe,” she whispered. “Sure. Safe.”
Experience told her no one was safe. Ever. It didn’t matter what kind of life you had lived, or whether or not you went to church. There were no guarantees. There was no safety in numbers. Dressing conservatively and carrying pepper spray did not promi
se safe passage through life.
Reaching for her phone, Nina clicked the screen on and then dragged her thumb down the surface to refresh her internet search. The same news articles that had been there for the last week reappeared.
“Captured Serial Killer. Robert Chester Teeter arrested and held without bail…”
Nina breathed a sigh of relief. No news was good news. She pushed up on the bed and frowned at the boxes. If she left them packed, she could move out faster. If she unpacked them, she could pretend life was getting back to normal.
Her therapist had suggested Nina focus on the things she could control—on a task in front of her that could be done that brought her life forward.
As she had every day since moving in, she negotiated with herself. “One box a day.”
Nina went to a box labeled dresses and tore open the top. She looped her hand under the stack of clothing and pulled them out. They were still on hangers, so all she had to do was place them in the closet.
“There. One box done.” She grabbed the empty box and carried it down the hallway to the living room, where she dropped it next to a stack of empties.
Light tried to invade through the drawn curtains. She used to love the morning sun but felt safer with the drapes closed. Even now, she felt like someone was looking at her, peeping at her through some hole she had yet to notice.
But what if it wasn’t a hole? A chill worked over her, and she rubbed her arms. Her new landlord, Heather Harrison, didn’t seem like the type to put hidden cameras everywhere but there were several thriller movies made with that very concept.
“Heather is a nice lady,” Nina said to herself. “I’m projecting my fears. That’s normal. I give myself permission to relax.”
The self-talk wasn’t working. Maybe she needed a new therapist.
Nina stared at the empty boxes, forgetting for a moment what she should be doing. Was this what her life had become? Paralyzed in each moment? Trapped by her own thoughts? Imagining the worst possible scenario?
“I give myself permission to shake off the nightmares.”
It didn’t work. The feelings lingered.
“I give myself permission to find coffee.”
Nina turned toward the coffee pot. The kitchen was separated from the living room by a passthrough window. The pot sat on the counter where she’d left it. She stared at it for a long moment before finally making the effort to go turn it on.
As she walked into the kitchen, she mumbled, “I give myself permission to eat junk food. Oh, wait, I don’t have any—”
A loud knock sounded on the door, causing her to jump in surprise. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch and she had to take a deep breath to try to calm down. She froze in the doorway to the kitchen and stared across the living room at the door.
The knock sounded again. She saw a shadow fall against the back of the curtains, subtle but there.
Nina didn’t know anyone in town. She had told no one where to find her. Utilities were all hooked up so it shouldn’t be a maintenance worker of any kind. The landlord had no reason to stop by.
“Go away,” she mouthed.
The knock sounded a third time.
Creeping barefoot over the carpet, she went toward the door. She glanced around her home to ensure she was alone, still unable to shake the feeling of being watched. Her heart did not slow.
Nina leaned her ear against the door.
“Maybe she’s not awake?” a woman suggested.
“It’s ten in the morning,” another answered.
“Maybe I should leave this on the porch,” a third added.
“Just give her a minute,” Heather said before another knock sounded.
Her landlord?
Nina glanced down at her old t-shirt and yoga pants. She finger-brushed her hair back from her face before unlocking the door.
“Hello,” she said as she peeked outside. She blocked the door with her foot to keep it from opening too wide.
“Hi, Nina. I hope it’s a good time for us to come by.” Heather had a straightforward manner that Nina appreciated. Her flannel shirt was rolled at the sleeves as if she was ready to get to work, with a small notebook and pen in the front pocket. She had pulled her hair back into a ponytail. When she smiled, it looked like she meant it. There was no calculation in her gaze, no sense of hidden meanings in her words. She didn’t glance around or study her phone like there was some place else she’d rather be.
Seeing that the group of women were looking expectantly at her, Nina said, “I’m still unpacking. The house is a mess.”
“We wanted to welcome you to Freewild Cove.” One of the women held up a basket. Her reddish-blonde hair was piled on top of her head in a curly bun. “I’m Lorna Addams. We made you muffins.”
“Oh, um…” Nina hesitated before letting the door open all the way. She reached for the offered basket, but the next woman’s words stopped her.
“By we, she means her.” The lady who stepped forward to push her way inside looked ready for a boardroom. Long wavy brown hair flowed around her shoulders as if she’d just stepped out of a salon, and her business suit appeared new like she’d just taken it off a very expensive clothing rack. “I’m Vivien Stone. I didn’t bake. Trust me, that’s a good thing. Lorna is amazing.”
Nina felt compelled to step aside to invite them in. It was more a reaction to Vivien’s assertive presence than the desire for company. Vivien, Lorna, and Heather stepped inside. Almost embarrassed, Nina looked at the stack of empty boxes. She said the only thing she could think of. “I’m still moving in.”
“Hi. I’m Sue Jewel. Latte?” A redhead lifted a to-go cup toward Nina as she paused in the doorway.
“Oh, um, thank you,” Nina answered, taking the cup. She gestured to herself. “Nina Cole.”
“I’ll put these in the kitchen.” Lorna carried the basket into the kitchen.
“If you’re done with these boxes, I can drop them off at the recycling center. I’ll be driving by the bins on my way to work,” Heather offered.
“Oh, yeah, thanks.” Nina glanced around in confusion as the women moved about the room. Though she’d agreed, she didn’t want to give up the boxes. What if she had to leave?
“We know how tiring moving can be,” Sue said.
Vivien looked at the ceiling. “Heather, you did an amazing job in here. The room feels so much bigger after being opened up to the kitchen.”
“I thought so.” Heather broke down a box so that it would lie flat. “Martin had to rewire…”
“I hope you like chocolate muffins,” Lorna called from the kitchen, “but if not, there are blueberry, apple cinnamon, pumpkin…”
“She’s renowned for her chocolate,” Vivien said. “Try the chocolate.”
“Where would you like us to get started?” Sue asked.
They all talked over each other. There was too much activity.
“I’m sorry?” Nina tried to follow what was happening.
“I can heat one up for you if you like,” Lorna offered.
“What color is this?” Vivien asked.
“Natural bark,” Heather answered.
“It looks like milk chocolate.” Vivien ran her hand over the wall. “Delicious.”
“Don’t lick the walls,” Heather muttered.