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

his mouth down as I glanced over. “That kid seems to have a lot more gumption than your average eight-year-old. She’ll probably be just fine.”

Jared scowled. “Some of us didn’t have pets when we were younger, and it shows.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Aunt Florentine held her arms out to her sides. “Time out, both of you. You’re professionals and should act like it.”

“Professionals get paid,” Jared muttered.

“Geez, we’ll pay you, all right?”

His face clouded even further. “No. I’m doing you a favour.”

With a strangled shriek, I moved away from him and fell into step beside my aunt. “Honestly, it’s becoming a liability to have both of them working on this case.”

“Then you should sit down and talk it through with them. You’ll have to make a decision soon.”

“A decision? About what?”

She laughed and gently brushed my shoulder. “One of them. None of them. Both of them. Just pick an option and go with it.”

I was still pondering what she meant when Genevieve called out from my left-hand side, waving. “Over here. Someone else should go first, otherwise, they’ll all flee the scene and we’ll be nowhere.”

“You first.” My aunt shoved me forward. “Since you’re the one working the case.”

“Me second.” Jared rushed to join me. “In case you need backup.”

“I should be second. I’m her partner.”

“Are you kidding, mate? You can’t even hear a familiar. What use are you?”

“Both of you follow me. Patrick, do you have your equipment ready?”

He lifted it and nodded, waving the mic towards the woods. “There’s a lot of energy focused in this area.” He swung in a circle, frowning at the reading. “And over there.”

I followed his pointing finger to the cemetery path. “Isn’t that normal for a burial site?”

“Not the ones I’ve visited in the past, but they often have adjoining churches. Tends to keep the activity to a minimum.”

I advanced through the dense fern underbrush, gasping when a tree branch laden with dew caught the top of my head and dumped its overnight collection on me. No wonder the familiars had chosen this site to congregate. It was private and sheltered and no one would ever voluntarily walk into such difficult terrain.

“Hello?” I called out as a snapping twig to my right caught my attention. “My name’s Desdemona and I’d like to ask you some questions.”

Chapter Sixteen

Another shuffle sounded in the undergrowth to my left, then a furry tail gave away the hiding place of one familiar, behind a clump of silver ferns.

“You’re not in any trouble.”

<Ha!> The squirrel popped its head above the dense coils, grasping a poplar tree to the side for balance as he examined me. <That’s what the cops always say just before they arrest you.>

“I’m not from the police.”

<Paranormal investigators are practically coven police. Believe me, we know a thing or two about your sort.>

The retort came from a different source, at first glance appearing to be a black beech tree. It took another ten seconds before my eyes caught a tiny movement that revealed the lizard clinging to the side of the sooty bark.

“Archie?”

<I don’t go by that name any longer. I’m Ferdinand the Great.> His tiny chest puffed out as he said the words.

“Well, Ferdinand, do you know—”

<The Great.>

A chihuahua poked his head out from behind a kawakawa bush on my left. “Meep!” When he didn’t respond, I added, “If that’s still your name.”

<Who’s the dog?>

Jared stepped forward, inclining his head towards the tiny animal. “I’m Jared. Originally from Auckland but I’m now associated with the Briarton pack.”

Introductions over, I tried again. “Ferdinand the Great, do you know a cat named Paisley?”

<Come closer and I’ll tell you.>

I walked over, exchanging a glance with Patrick whose machine was whirring like a plastic windmill. When I was a foot away, the lizard sprang off the bark and landed squarely on my chest, his feet clinging as easily as if they were coated with glue.

<We both know Paisley. She’s one of us.>

<Not for long.>

I turned to Meep as the lizard shot him a belated warning glance. “Is she going somewhere?”

<We all go somewhere in the end.>

“Sure.” Enough of the existential babble. Witches were in danger of popping out of existence. “Do you know how to mix potions?”

<We’re all well-schooled in familiar-craft.> Ferdinand ran up my arm and stuck his hands on my chin. Although adorable, being scrutinised from such a close distance made the hairs on my neck rise. <Is that what you’ve come for? Lessons.>

“Well, I’m sure Annalisa would make a quip about needing them if she were here, but we’re after information. Two witches have disappeared and the ingredients for a disappearance potion were stolen—”

<Taken, not stolen. She was living in your house.>

I frowned at the lizard. “Semantics aside, Paisley took things that didn’t belong—”

<Got proof, do you?> Meep this time. <Because that sounds a lot like an accusation, and we don’t truck much with those. Not unless you can produce evidence. We’re not philistines.>

“We think that—”

<All of you?> Meep raised his head and scanned the entire group, now crowded close together in the dim clearing. <Or is it just you who’s intuited that?>

“Fine.” I raised a hand in frustration, curling it into a fist. “I think that Paisley took ingredients that can be used to make a potion to disappear witches. What do you know about that?”

<I know that we>—Ferdinand glanced over to Meep, who nodded—<don’t like your tone. Also, those ingredients can be used to make a multitude of different potions for a variety of spells.>

“Well, I’m assuming that Paisley didn’t want to conjure a Fae out of nothing.”

<Why not?> He retreated to my shoulder, standing with one hand resting on my ear. <Fae are lovely.>

Aunt Florentine snorted. “They eat things that shouldn’t ever go near someone’s mouth. Hardly lovely.”

<So does a dung beetle. Want to cast them onto your naughty list while you’re at it?>

“Could you just answer the question?”

<I know nothing about that. Neither does Meep.> Ferdinand the Great ran down my arm and jumped back to his tree.