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

help.” I let that sink in for a moment, before asking, “Did the phrase ‘Bad Witch’ mean anything to either of you?” I watched Carson’s face intently, trying to pick up any bad vibes. Wasn’t it always the husband?

<Unless it’s a witch hunter.>

I stroked Annalisa, wishing she hadn’t beamed the words into my head.

“Do you think that’s likely?” Evelyn leant forward, pressing her cupped hands to her forehead, and closing her eyes. When she spoke again, her voice trembled. “Would a hunter be able to pull off something like this?”

Jared’s ears twitched. “I could tell you if you let me near the crime scene. They have a peculiar scent.”

I raised my eyebrows. It was news to me.

“From the rituals they perform,” he explained. “The pack took me through it. They douse themselves in a strange potion and its odour is both strong and distinctive.”

“Kelburn Manor has restricted access,” Carson said. “The police put tape up everywhere.”

“But the old dentist doesn’t.” I stood up, prodding Annalisa in the shoulder until she did the same. “Let’s go and test out your nose skills there.”

“Probably better, anyway.” Patrick shook Carson’s hand as I set about repairing the door. “Since it’s more recent.”

“Hey. I don’t need advantages. This snozzle is more than up to the task, no matter how old the evidence.”

Once the front door was back in place and Evelyn had proved its value by shutting it in our faces, we set off for the main road. While we waited outside for Wes to arrive with the key, I picked off a couple dozen black hairs from my stonewash jeans.

“Honestly, do you shed all year round?”

<It’s the only way to keep a girl’s coat nice and shiny. It’s a bit weird they let me into the house at all.>

“Maybe you’re not as scary as you thought.”

<Not in that way, but for the parent of a severely allergic child to happily let a dog and a cat into his house seems strange.> Annalisa shook herself, sending a new flurry of hairs into the surrounds. <Either Carson isn’t a fit parent or Violet was lying about the reason she got rid of Paisley.>

Chapter Fifteen

“Nope. There’s no trace of the hunter’s scent,” Jared proclaimed an hour later. He’d stuck his nose deep into every corner of the store, taking especial care along the brick feature wall. I leant over to wipe a trace of lime jelly off his snout, a prompt that made him lick away the rest. “Not even a trace of human.”

“Do people smell different from witches?” The thought entertained me.

“Everything smells different from everything else. But yeah. Witches do have a certain odour that’s just outright missing in people. Like Patrick here. I can sniff in a second there’s nothing the slightest bit special about him.”

“Not everyone is desperate to be special,” Patrick said, the words containing a bite that his calm expression lacked. “And it’s no badge of honour to be bitten by a werewolf.”

“What would you know about it?”

“I’m a paranormal investigator, so a lot.”

“The only thing supernatural about your investigative skills is that people keep hiring you, despite your track record.”

I stared from one man to the other, flabbergasted. “How about you stop picking on each other and concentrate on the job?”

“Not my job.” Jared folded his arms and tilted his head upward. “I’m only here as a favour. Nobody’s wasting good coven money on me.”

“I… What?” With a puff, I blew my fringe out of my face. “We can pay you. That’s fine.”

“No need. I don’t want your money.”

Annalisa broke into sniggers. <Your dog’s gone plain mad.>

Yeah. For real. “Everyone’s contribution is important.”

<Thanks, Mum.>

I turned my baffled face away from the pair and saw Wes struggling to hold back tears. “I’m so sorry. Believe me, we’re as anxious to get Jac back in one piece as you are.”

<Once the males assert their dominance, that is.>

“Is there anything you can sense?” I asked Jared before a new fight could break out. “No matter how small.”

“I don’t know why this is called the old dentist’s office when I can’t smell the slightest hint of blood or teeth.”

<Preach, brother.>

“It stopped being that a long time ago,” Wes explained. “The original owner was forced to sell up and Benedict Kelburn converted it into a set of flats.” He ran his hand across the wall. “Not that anyone rented them. Even when he offered them at a discount, he struggled to fill them.”

“How long ago was that?”

Wes gave me a shrug. “Three or four owners ago. He’s been dead since the turn of the century. Not that anyone’s been able to make a go of it.” His face collapsed into despair. “Including us. I wish we’d gone for the store down by the supermarket. That small group of shops outperforms this a hundred to one, but Jac insisted.”

“I guess, if it’s always been a problem, you got a good deal.”

He gave a bitter laugh. “You’d think, wouldn’t you? Between the renovations and the rent, we’re so far beyond budget, it’s unbearable. Turns out authenticity comes with a sky-high price tag.” Wes grabbed a tissue and blew his nose. “We were deep in the red before any of the sad feeling nonsense started. Some things just aren’t meant to be.”

As he locked the store again behind us, Wes stared at the key in his hand. “Might as well just push this through the slot. I can’t make next month’s rent. Even if our suppliers take back the stock at cost, I couldn’t swing it.”

My thoughts travelled to the post-dated cheque sitting on Patrick’s desk. I guessed Jared wasn’t the only one performing this investigation as a favour.

I opened my mouth to offer a reassuring platitude, then closed it again with a snap. The man had lost his partner and his business. Any savings must be long gone. To trot out, ‘everything happens for a reason,’ or say, ‘things could still pick up,’ would be an insult to his intelligence and his grief.

“We’ll keep