Quit Your Witchin'

Quit Your Witchin' Read Free Page A

Book: Quit Your Witchin' Read Free
Author: Dakota Cassidy
Tags: General Fiction
Ads: Link
contractor’s tool, all forms of bamboo-ish-like torture, fire, bullets, bombs, anything affiliated with bombs, chains, razors, yelling, berating, and/or other forceful measures that may never be taken when inducing spirit conversation in the afterlife. Your words.”
    I grated out a sigh, forgetting Edward was with us. “Oh, we do not either have five hundred and twenty-two rules yet. It’s only in the three hundreds, Melodrama Mama, and I said nothing about razors, but I’m glad you mentioned them. They’re definitely out. Please put that on the list.”
    Edward leaned back in his seat, pulling his hand from mine, the vein running along his forehead pulsing. The apprehension on his face was clear. “ What ? I don’t understand what she means. What do razors have to do with anything? What’s happening ?”
    The distress on Edward’s face was obvious, from the lines in his forehead shaped in a frown to the downward turn of his trembling mouth.
    I patted his hand again then sneezed, giving Win the second agreed-upon signal to quit screwin’ around. If we got to the stage where I coughed, it was DEFCON and Win better be prepared to be on the receiving end of a good tongue-lashing.
    “It’s all going to be fine, Edward. Sometimes other spirits interfere with my communication and our signals get crossed.”
    “Other spirits?” he asked as he peered at me with watery eyes.
    “Yep. Spirits who struggle with simple directions. They’re everywhere. All around us. Some even have names that rhyme with Winterbottom .”
    Edward’s face went openly confused.
    “You truly are despicable, Stevie Cartwright. You do this all the time and I have absolutely no way of defending myself. It’s cruel.”
    I fought a grin, but just as I reached for Edward’s hand once more, there was a commotion outside at the front of the store.
    A crowd had gathered, the voices floating toward my ear filled with rising hysteria, lifting above the loud music typically blaring in the food court.
    How odd.
    But I shrugged it off. Maybe Forrest’s grandfather, Chester, had threatened the kids who skateboarded along the sidewalk with his big broom. Chester was infamous for chasing the local teens when they scooted along the sidewalk, his broom in his chubby, weathered hands, held high over his head as he bellowed at them and called them words like miscreants and rug rats.
    Chester made me giggle. I adored this crabby, chubby little man, and he liked me pretty well, too, but we didn’t always have such a mutual admiration for one another.
    He was the first person to accuse me of murdering Madam Zoltar, totally unfounded and completely reactionary on his part, but at the time, it had caused me some serious grief.
    However, I’d forgiven him since then, and he was now one of the best parts about living here in Ebenezer Falls. I especially loved that he was helping me design gardens for the front of Mayhem Manor. We’d spent hours at the kitchen table, plotting and planning for spring, and I couldn’t wait to get my hands in the soil right alongside him.
    Someone screamed outside, cutting off my thoughts.
    Edward gripped my hand. “What’s going on?”
    I rose from my seat and headed toward the new picture window I’d had installed in the front of the store, peering around our blinking Madam Zoltar sign toward the food trucks parked just across the street.
    Frank Jessup, the manager of the local used bookstore, flew across the street, his eyes wide, his long legs eating up the distance between the food trucks and my store. He looked panicked, maybe even afraid as he ran straight for Forrest’s coffee shop, ducking inside.
    Forgetting about Edward and Kitty, I ran to our front door and pushed it open, the chimes Madam Zoltar had been so fond of tinkling a haunting sound. We were having an unusually warm, sunny day for March in Washington, which had brought a big lunch crowd to the food court.
    I couldn’t see anything through the throng of

Similar Books

Little Blue Lies

Chris Lynch

Bayou Trackdown

Jon Sharpe

Sweet Addiction

Jessica Daniels

The Golden

Lucius Shepard

War & War

László Krasznahorkai, George Szirtes

A Knight's Vow

Lindsay Townsend