Dewitched (Witchless In Seattle Mysteries Book 3) Read Free

scratches.
    “Duuude!” Belfry chirped his discontent. “A little warning before you do that, huh, buddy? You could crush me and then what? Who would you have to pretend-throw the ball to you when these lugs are too busy solving murders?”
    I giggled. Belfy is a cotton ball bat. Two inches of snarky, snarly, snow-white, loveable, forever-napping bat, and I’d have never made it this far without him after being kicked out of my coven and losing my powers. He remained steadfast in his loyalty to me as my familiar, the coven be damned.
    Plucking him from the bed before Whiskey crushed him, I held him up and looked him in the eye, his yellow snout and ears twitching as he asked, “You ready for tonight, Cinderella?”
    “I’m afraid of tonight,” I replied, eyeing my glittering red designer dress. A brand-new designer dress Win insisted I purchase, rather than dig into my stash of secondhand vintage clothing.
    I love the coup of finding a designer label in a secondhand store. There’s nothing more fulfilling when it comes to shopping for clothes. Win insisted I could more than afford all new designer clothing, but he missed the point entirely. If I can just buy whatever I want, it takes the fun out of the hunt. Also, there was a time when I couldn’t just buy what I wanted—before Win gave me all his worldly possessions.
    “You’re not nervous, are you, Stevie?” Bel asked. “You know all these people, for cripes sake. What’s the big hullabaloo?”
    “They’ve never met me this way, Bel. I used to be just Stevie Cartwright, brooding, pouty, Goth-black-makeup lover. And when we moved back here, I was thrown into the position of Madam Zoltar, medium to the heavens, before anyone really had a chance to see all this. But no one knows this Stevie. The one with all the money for a champagne fountain and Italian marble countertops. It feels kinda showy, don’t you think?”
    Belfry twittered his wings. “If I were you, I’d worry less about that and more about the fact that I have something to tell you. So get dressed. It’ll keep your hands busy so you can’t grab something and throw it at me.”
    My eyes narrowed. If Win had put him up to something—like, say, I dunno…elephants arriving at any second—I’d kill him. He and Win were always in cahoots these days.
    “Bel…” I said with clear warning.
    But he flapped his wings. “Go! Shoo. Put that snazzy dress on and I’ll talk.”
    I set him back on Whiskey’s fur and grabbed my amazing dress. Even if it had cost the earth, and I hadn’t hunted it down myself, it was gorgeous. A long-sleeved turtle neck of glittering red, it cinched at the waist and had a flared skirt that just grazed the middle of my thighs. Paired with silver-strapped heels and shiny silver hoop earrings, I fell in love with it the minute Win pointed it out in an expensive boutique in Seattle.
    I made my way into my equally fabulous bathroom with a real cast-iron claw-foot tub and said, “Okay, Bel. What’s on your mind?”
    “Are you near the soap dish?”
    “Why?”
    “I don’t want you to throw it at me.”
    I couldn’t hold back my laughter. “Just spit it out.”
    “My parents are coming.”
    Sweet Pete on a carousel.
    I pulled my dress over my head and let it fall to my waist, brushing it past my hips without saying a word.
    “Boss? You still upright?”
    Grabbing the brush, I ran it through my hair, happy with the caramel highlights I’d had added just yesterday. My chestnut hair was rather drab, in my opinion, and now that it was growing out, I needed a change.
    “Boss?” Bel repeated with a tentative tone.
    “I’m still upright. When?”
    “Well, that’s the thing…”
    “ When , Bel?”
    “Tonight. Oh, crud, I might as well just spit it all out. They’re bringing—”
    “Not Com and Wom. Please say the twins are off in familiar boot camp or something.” I almost moaned, biting the inside of my cheek. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.
    Bel snorted .