How to Stone a Crow (Witch Like a Boss Book 2) by Willow Mason (great novels txt) 📕

back. Already today I’d seen an infuriated dead man trashing his fiancé’s house and observed her shaking grief. In no way, shape, or form did I need to be greeted at the cemetery by anything but a nice meandering trail of undisturbed headstones and overgrown plots.

<You’re taking your sweet time,> Annalisa growled to me as I returned to the shelter of the forest proper, pine trees barricading me from the piercing sun overhead.

“I thought you were staying back home to keep an eye on our guest.”

<Woman’s prerogative and all that. If I kept watch on that cat, she’d just give me the evil eye in return. I’ve never met such a disagreeable creature.>

Having worked retail for numerous years, I couldn’t agree but I sympathised with the sentiment. Paisley might have a flowing print vibe for a name, but she was a Karen by nature.

“Hopefully, once word gets out about her predicament, some kind soul will volunteer to take over her care.”

<In which case, I’d better keep my true thoughts to myself for the next wee while.>

A good idea and one I silently swore adherence to.

“Why would someone hide a cemetery out here?” I paused to catch my breath again, turning in a half-circle to look back the way we’d come. “Was grave robbing a large problem a century ago?”

<If it was, they’d have built the place closer.> Annalisa slumped to the side of the track, then wriggled back and forth in the undergrowth. <Mm. Nothing like the smell of green to add extra volume to your day.>

“Just so long as it’s only the smell you’re getting. If you track stains through the house, you’re cleaning them up.”

<You’re the one who needs to practice her magic.>

“A broomstick would certainly come in handy right now.”

<If you wanted to fly straight into a tree, it would.>

A crashing noise from our right-hand side announced Jared’s return. Annalisa gave a light hiss as he sauntered onto the track, mouth agape with joy, bounding forward with enthusiasm to meet us.

“Did the stream have more than water in it?” I asked with a laugh as he shook his hair out, still grinning. “You seem to have far too much energy for a walk to a cemetery.”

“Right. Yeah.” He pulled a solemn expression into place. “That better?”

<This is the gate.> Annalisa wound her body between the old, wrought-iron bars and padded into the small circle of headstones. <Somebody’s been keeping this place up.>

She was right. The hinges squeaked but a splash of darkness against their dark charcoal hue showed where oil had been applied. Inside, the grass was tall—somewhere close to four inches high—but still retained the pattern of mower tracks across it. The lack of dandelions and clover indicated somebody tended to the weeding, even if not on the regular.

I entered with Jared following close behind. The circular layout of the stones was the only significant difference I could see between this plot and others I’d visited in the past. Well, that, and the fact this was on my land.

“Do you think everyone buried here is a witch?” I knelt and tried to read the words on one headstone but even brushing a thick coating of lichen away didn’t lend any clarity.

<Witch or some other member of the supernatural community. I can’t imagine normal folks would want to be interred here.>

“This guy has the same name as my new pack leader,” Jared exclaimed, sniffing around the sides of a plot covered in wildflowers. The dozen different varieties all offset each other so well, I suspected they’d been planted by design rather than randomly sprouting on the grave. “Hederman. It’s not common enough to be anything but a relative.”

I stalked the rest of the plots, trying to find connections. Although there were a few Milchtraps buried, I couldn’t read their first or middle names clearly enough to place them.

“We need to come back here with some weedkiller and try to work out who everyone is.”

“I recognise this one well enough,” Jared called out, standing by a newer grave located at the far side of the grounds. “Isn’t this the fellow that decided to go roaring past me this morning?”

Annalisa and I rushed to his side, and I bent to rub my thumb across the engraving. “Andrew Pike Darby. I think we’ve found our man.”

<But we’re not the first today,> Annalisa said, circling the gravestone and rubbing against its rough edges. <Unless the florists in town serve up their bouquets in a deconstructed style.>

Following her gaze, I saw the pile of fresh blooms torn apart into a thousand different pieces.

“Looks like somebody got angry,” I mused, prodding the bundled stalks in search of a card, and coming up empty.

“Somebody or something,” Jared added, pointing to a patch of dark ground where the grass had been torn out by the roots. Even on close inspection, I couldn’t tell whether the action had come from above or below.

“I hope this doesn’t mean we’ve got zombies on the loose.”

<If so, you should both be safe.> When Jared frowned at her, Annalisa added, <Since they only want to eat brains.>

He bared his teeth. “If you’re so smart, work out which signs belong to rampaging poltergeists and what is natural wear and tear.”

The panther roamed around the cemetery, rubbing against stones and iron posts, before sloping back to join us. <Hard to tell.>

Before Jared could retort, I knelt behind Andrew’s grave, trying to get a different view of the site, bruising my knee on a stone. It was embedded in the earth behind his neighbour’s grave and I picked it up, intending to toss it outside the gate so no one else would injure themselves.

Instead, I held onto it, my thumb tracing a pattern engraved on the surface. The object was dark—jet or onyx—with a bird etched on one side and a Latin inscription on the other. In ultione victoria.

Annalisa translated, <In vengeance, victory.>

“Lovely.” I stood up, my knees cracking. “Nothing like a good spot of vengeance to start your morning.” A clear spot