Westerham Witches and a Venetian Vendetta by Dionne Lister (top rated books of all time TXT) 📕

She had nightmares almost every night. Her anguished cries for help and calling out for my father broke my heart. After the first couple of times, I’d gone in there to wake her and reassure her, she seemed to be more upset about waking me than having the nightmare. She’d explained that her nightmares had started when she’d been kidnapped and had never stopped. The enormity of that had left me angry at RP all over again and heartbroken at what she’d suffered and still did. Angelica had suggested a mind wipe, but my mother refused. My thought was to try and create a spell that could stop the bad dreams. I wasn’t sure how, exactly, so I hadn’t said anything, but I was working on it.

The door opened, and Angelica stood there smiling. “Ah, you made it. Lovely. Your bag’s already here.” She moved back and opened the door wider for my mother to enter.

Will had walked to the next door. “This is ours, Lily.”

I smiled at him. “Cool.” I looked back at Angelica. “What’s the plan for today? Are we going to all go for a walk and ease into things?”

Angelica smiled. “Yes, dear. I think we should start with a visit to Piazza San Marco and get an ice cream. It’s rather warm outside.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I gave Mum a small wave. “See you soon. Meet you downstairs in ten minutes?”

Angelica nodded. “Okay. I’ll let the others know.” We’d set up a Facebook chat for our group so we could keep tabs on where everyone was. That way, we’d be able to organise group things, but if someone didn’t want to come, we’d still know what they were up to.

Will held the door open for me. As I scooted past him, he smacked my bottom. “Ow!”

The door closed. “What do you mean, ow? I hardly tapped you.”

“Yeah, I know, but you scared me. I wasn’t expecting it, and that was my reaction.”

He shook his head, smiling. “Of course. Silly me for forgetting you have at least one surprise-induced heart attack every day.”

“More evidence that I was a squirrel in a former life. Genetic memory is a thing, you know.” I held back a laugh, keeping my expression as serious as possible.

He nodded thoughtfully. “That makes total sense. Another mystery bites the dust.” He took in the room. “Quaint and very Venetian.”

“It is.” I plonked onto the double bed and tried bouncing. “Not bad. I love the terrazzo floors, even if they are sloping just a smidge.” I hopped up. “What’s our view like?” I hurried to the window and looked out at a white-paved courtyard enclosed by three-storey walls on all sides. The space was a large square, maybe five by five metres. Tables and chairs sat under red-and-blue-striped umbrellas. A few people occupied those tables, having a meal and chatting while pigeons poked around their feet for scraps, some braver pigeons daring to alight on the tables of patrons still eating. So peaceful and holidayish. I grinned. This week away was going to be phenomenal.

A man with thick, dark hair and dressed in similar black slacks and white shirt as our bellboy this morning strode out of the door, a scowl on his face. He waved his arms in the air. His voice was loud but not quite shouting. “Shoo! Va via! Va Via! Uccelli disgustosi.” He approached one of the tables and kicked his foot under it. Oh, that’s what he was doing. The pigeons flew away from him but settled across the courtyard. He made a strangled sound and slammed his hands on his hips and glared at the pigeons. Magic tingled my scalp.

The birds flapped crazily, taking off and flying away. Feathers floated around the courtyard as if there’d just been a massive pillow fight. The diners waved their arms around their faces to clear the air. When everything settled, three little bodies lay on the ground. I frowned. How sad. What a meanie. “This isn’t the best start to our holiday.”

Will had been peering over my shoulder. “They carry lice and leave a mess. Trust me; you don’t want them around where you’re eating.”

“Yes, but did he have to kill them?”

“He didn’t kill all of them.”

I deepened my frown and directed it at Will.

He shrugged one shoulder. “What? It could’ve been worse.” He shook his head. “Look at it this way; our holiday can only get better from here, right?”

I rolled my eyes. “Now you’ve probably jinxed us. What if it doesn’t get better?”

He raised a brow, grabbed me around the waist, and pulled me to him for a kiss. “Hey, we’re together in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Let’s focus on that.” I was about to answer, but he placed his lips over mine and kissed the words away.

When the kiss was over, I sighed at the smile I couldn’t help—I wanted to be annoyed at his lack of sympathy for the pigeons, but his kiss had disarmed me. “Okay. You win. Let’s go meet the others and have that ice cream.” I took off the jacket I’d worn from the UK—because, let’s face it, it was still cold over there—and grabbed my phone rather than the Nikon before going downstairs. Today was supposed to be a pleasant twenty-six Celsius and sunny in Venice—perfect weather for being out and about, and whilst I loved taking photos, the middle of the day wasn’t the best lighting, so the phone would do for some quick snaps.

Under the foyer’s ornate Venetian chandelier that depicted flowers holding the globes, a group chatted. I grinned and hurried over, throwing my arms around the nearest person. “Liv! Eek!”

She hugged me back. “Lily! Yay! This is going to be awesome.”

“I know, right?”

Will shook Beren’s hand, and they slapped each other’s backs in a thumpingly loud man hug. Why couldn’t they just do gentle? Why did there have to be a show of “look how strong and robust we are. We can slap hard