A Witch In Time: Magic and Mayhem Book Three Read Free Page A

hands. The Town Treasury went bankrupt after those very unfortunate incidents,” he replied as he scrubbed his hands over his face. “Thankfully, your dearly departed Aunt Hildy was able to heal most of the victims.”
     
    My Aunt Hildy had been the Shifter Whisperer before me. She was gone now and I owned the job—or rather, the job owned me.
     
    “So what would you like to talk about today?” Roger inquired carefully, as I was here for a session.
     
    He was terrified of me. This was a good thing. I’d randomly discovered his porn addiction much to the displeasure of my over-active gag reflex, but it kept us on an even keel. Hippocratic Oath be damned. If the little turd gossiped about our sessions, I’d reveal his penchant for watching people hump. Win-win.
     
    I didn’t want to do our sessions, but I’d lost a bet to my dad and had to visit with Roger too many times to count—nine to be exact and thank the Goddess I’d already done one. I’d suggested we do them all in one day, but Roger almost had a coronary. Since I was the one who would have to heal the little shit if his ticker blew up, I generously agreed to twice a week—on different days.
     
    “I was thinking you could watch me meditate for an hour,” I explained, getting into a yoga position and winking at him.
     
    “Zelda.” His forehead furrowed and his nose twitched.
     
    Damn, he looked like a rabbit even in his human form.
     
    “Roger,” I shot back imitating his stern tone.
     
    “Fine.” He gave up and shrugged. “Why don’t we just chat about things that won’t help you grow as a person or get over your fear of abandonment or make you realize you’re a lovable person?”
     
    “Sounds good to me,” I said wanting to throw one of his big head-shrinker books at his face.
     
    We sat in silence for a few minutes while I watched Roger rack his brain for a subject that would keep him safe from my itchy magical fingers.
     
    “I have to say, I’m very excited that you’ve agreed to star in the show.”
     
    He chose the wrong topic of conversation.
     
    “Um… Dude—may I call you Dude?” I snapped sarcastically, not waiting for a reply. “I have agreed to nothing. Nothing. I want no part of a theatrical production where innocent by-standers bleed profusely.”
     
    “I see,” Roger stated and jotted a few notes on a pad.
     
    “What did you just write?” I demanded as I tried to peek at his notebook.
     
    Roger eyed me for a long moment and I squirmed a bit in my seat.
     
    “Fear of success,” he said sadly. “Fear of mass adulation. Fear of love.”
     
    “Did you drink before our session?” I asked as my eyes grew large and the need to smack his head off his shoulders consumed me.
     
    “It’s only two o’clock.” Roger checked his watch and nodded with satisfaction. “I never drink before four.”
     
    “Good to know.” I made a silent promise to myself to check the session times of my future appointments with the good doctor. “I’m not doing the show. I told Fabio I would think about it. And the only reason I’m considering it is because Fabio wants to fit into Assjacket and it might help curb his gambling hobby.”
     
    “I thought you were calling him Dad now,” Roger noted with surprise.
     
    “I am,” I hissed. “I just wanted to be sure you knew who I was talking about.”
     
    “Right.” His brows rose as he scribbled some more crap on his pad.
     
    “Fine,” I shouted as Roger jumped in terror and his pad flew over his head. “You win. I’ll talk about all the painful and embarrassing stuff you want me to puke up. You happy now?”
     
    “Only if you are,” Roger stated calmly as he hopped off his chair and placed a bucket at my feet.
     
    I stared at it for a moment and then laughed. “That was a metaphor. I’m not going to really hurl.”
     
    “My bad,” Roger apologized as he quickly retrieved the pail and sat back down.
     
    Again we sat in silence staring at each