A Spell Of Trouble (Silver Hollow Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series Book 1) by Leighann Dobbs, Traci Douglass
Authors: Leighann Dobbs, Traci Douglass
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the thoughts of animals wasn’t a gift she’d fully developed. The smaller the animal, the harder they were to read. She wasn’t sure if she would pick anything up from the tiny reptiles, but it was worth a try.
Bella was happy to be out in the woods, and she frolicked along beside Issy as they made their own path through the old tall pine, delicate birch, and stately oak trees. Issy had dressed in a thin tank top and cotton shorts along with thick socks and work boots. It was close to ninety degrees out, and the shade from the trees gave her a little respite from the hot temperatures, but her feet were sweltering inside the boots.
Issy absorbed the ambiance of the forest as they walked. The smell of pine and damp earth. The rustling of leaves and chirping of birds. Up above, splotches of blue sky could be seen between the lush canopy of leaves. A blue jay swooped down from a pine tree, the sunlight turning its royal-blue feathers iridescent. Its raucous squawk rang through the forest.
After fifteen minutes of walking she heard the low gurgle of a slowly running stream. It was only a foot wide, maybe four inches deep. Issy could see by the waterline on the numerous rocks in the stream and on its banks that it ran much higher in spring, but this was August, and most streams had dried to a trickle.
Beside the stream, a few large oak trees had fallen decades ago, their trunks nearly rotted out and carpeted with green moss. Large ferns—beech fern, ebony spleenwort, and fiddleheads—sprouted up around it, giving the area an almost prehistoric look. A perfect environment for the purple spotted salamander.
“What do you think, Bella? Are there any salamanders here?” Issy’s voice sounded loud in the quiet forest. She knew the salamanders were active at night. During the day they were probably burrowed into the mud or sleeping under rocks or inside the logs.
She bent down and brushed away some old leaves from under one of the fallen logs. Nothing there.
She picked up a few rocks and peered under them. No salamanders.
A large pine had fallen a few feet away from the stream, its form barely recognizable now. It had deteriorated so much that a spindly maple tree was growing out of it. Issy wedged the toe of her boot under part of it and managed to slide it a few inches, revealing four purple spotted salamanders.
They blinked up at her, almost as if they were squinting to avoid the sun, then wriggled back under the log.
“Oh, wait a minute, you guys. I want to talk to you.” Issy reached under the log and gently grabbed one of the salamanders. Its cold, clammy body squirmed and wriggled in her hand. She closed her fist around it loosely so as not to hurt the creature. Squatting there, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, holding it and focusing all her energy on reading the salamander’s thoughts.
Salamanders don’t have thoughts like humans. They don’t think in sentences. They think more in emotions, and those emotions flowed from the salamander into Issy.
Fear.
Run.
Someone is coming for them. Taking them.
Images flooded her brain. Damp hiding places under piles of leaves. Burrowing deep into the soft wood of the decaying trees. The steel toe of a black work boot, gigantic in size as seen from the perspective of the tiny salamander.
She zoned in on the image of the work boot, its color changing from black to tan. It seemed so real that Issy felt almost as if she’d been there, as if the salamander’s thoughts were becoming hers—
“What are you doing out here?”
Issy’s heart jerked in her chest.
She dropped the salamander. It scurried away, rustling through the leaves to get back to the log. It took her a second to realize the work boot was real. Someone was standing right in front of her.
Her eyes tracked upward. Strong, muscular thighs, trim waist, broad chest. Dex Nolan.
“Nature walk,” Issy squeaked.
Dex smiled down at her, one brow quirked. “You certainly take a lot of walks
Bella was happy to be out in the woods, and she frolicked along beside Issy as they made their own path through the old tall pine, delicate birch, and stately oak trees. Issy had dressed in a thin tank top and cotton shorts along with thick socks and work boots. It was close to ninety degrees out, and the shade from the trees gave her a little respite from the hot temperatures, but her feet were sweltering inside the boots.
Issy absorbed the ambiance of the forest as they walked. The smell of pine and damp earth. The rustling of leaves and chirping of birds. Up above, splotches of blue sky could be seen between the lush canopy of leaves. A blue jay swooped down from a pine tree, the sunlight turning its royal-blue feathers iridescent. Its raucous squawk rang through the forest.
After fifteen minutes of walking she heard the low gurgle of a slowly running stream. It was only a foot wide, maybe four inches deep. Issy could see by the waterline on the numerous rocks in the stream and on its banks that it ran much higher in spring, but this was August, and most streams had dried to a trickle.
Beside the stream, a few large oak trees had fallen decades ago, their trunks nearly rotted out and carpeted with green moss. Large ferns—beech fern, ebony spleenwort, and fiddleheads—sprouted up around it, giving the area an almost prehistoric look. A perfect environment for the purple spotted salamander.
“What do you think, Bella? Are there any salamanders here?” Issy’s voice sounded loud in the quiet forest. She knew the salamanders were active at night. During the day they were probably burrowed into the mud or sleeping under rocks or inside the logs.
She bent down and brushed away some old leaves from under one of the fallen logs. Nothing there.
She picked up a few rocks and peered under them. No salamanders.
A large pine had fallen a few feet away from the stream, its form barely recognizable now. It had deteriorated so much that a spindly maple tree was growing out of it. Issy wedged the toe of her boot under part of it and managed to slide it a few inches, revealing four purple spotted salamanders.
They blinked up at her, almost as if they were squinting to avoid the sun, then wriggled back under the log.
“Oh, wait a minute, you guys. I want to talk to you.” Issy reached under the log and gently grabbed one of the salamanders. Its cold, clammy body squirmed and wriggled in her hand. She closed her fist around it loosely so as not to hurt the creature. Squatting there, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, holding it and focusing all her energy on reading the salamander’s thoughts.
Salamanders don’t have thoughts like humans. They don’t think in sentences. They think more in emotions, and those emotions flowed from the salamander into Issy.
Fear.
Run.
Someone is coming for them. Taking them.
Images flooded her brain. Damp hiding places under piles of leaves. Burrowing deep into the soft wood of the decaying trees. The steel toe of a black work boot, gigantic in size as seen from the perspective of the tiny salamander.
She zoned in on the image of the work boot, its color changing from black to tan. It seemed so real that Issy felt almost as if she’d been there, as if the salamander’s thoughts were becoming hers—
“What are you doing out here?”
Issy’s heart jerked in her chest.
She dropped the salamander. It scurried away, rustling through the leaves to get back to the log. It took her a second to realize the work boot was real. Someone was standing right in front of her.
Her eyes tracked upward. Strong, muscular thighs, trim waist, broad chest. Dex Nolan.
“Nature walk,” Issy squeaked.
Dex smiled down at her, one brow quirked. “You certainly take a lot of walks
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