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

<If that’s all you wanted, then you can move on. Job done.>

“The potion can also be used to bond witches to a familiar against their will,” Aunt Florentine said, stepping forward. “Do you have the collective knowledge to perform that spell?”

<We do.> Meep earned himself another black look. <But I can assure you, Paisley isn’t using that magic.>

I moved closer, squatting and holding out my hand until he came near. “You’re such a good dog,” I cooed to him, giving him a heap of head pats until his tail wagged in circles. “Who’s a good boy?”

<So good you didn’t bother to visit him for twenty years.>

At Ferdinand’s sharp retort, Meep skittered a few steps away, out of my reach. “That wasn’t my idea. Mum moved us up to Auckland.”

<And left us behind.>

“If it had been up to me, I wouldn’t have gone.”

Genevieve sighed. “Sometimes things happen. You can hardly blame Desdemona for moving away. She was only five.”

<You’ve been back for months now and the first we see your face is when you want something.>

“Okay.” I stood up, knees cracking, and raised my hands. “That’s a bit on me and a bit on whatever Mum did to muck up my memory. Until Annalisa mentioned you yesterday, I’d—”

My aunt cut me off. “What she means to say is she’s sorry and of course you’ll be part of her life from now on.”

I nodded. “That is exactly what I mean to say.” It was hard to read Ferdinand’s expression with his eyes rolling everywhere. After a moment of silence, I added, “Unless you don’t want me in your life.”

Meep raced forward, jumping up at me until I picked him up off the ground. His long tongue found my face and licked it until I giggled. <We do want to be part of it. We do.>

<Speak for yourself.>

<Not if you’re going to cut off your nose to spite your face.> Meep gave a wheezy bark that I guessed was his version of a laugh. <Even if, in your case, it would grow straight back.>

<We can’t just up and leave our entire community.>

“This is part of my property, so there’s no need to leave. You’re welcome to come into the house whenever you want to.” Under my breath, I muttered, “Everyone else seems to.”

<Then it’s settled.>

Genevieve folded her arms. “It’d be more settled if you told us exactly what is happening with the stolen ingredients.” After ten second’s silence, she tapped her foot. “Come on. I don’t want to have to command you as the coven supreme, but if you make me, I will.”

I raised my eyebrows, frightened at what that might entail, but a glance at my aunt’s dismissive expression relaxed me.

It appeared Aunt Florentine wasn’t the only one who rated the supreme’s influence low on the scale.

<We can’t tell you anything more.> Ferdinand scurried down the tree and plunged into the intertwined ferns, finally popping his head up near my feet. <Does that mean you’re rescinding your offer.>

Genevieve’s expression was clearly instructing me to say yes, but I shook my head. “No, it doesn’t. Hop aboard and we can go home right now.”

As we retraced our steps, Patrick moved over, tapping me on the shoulder. “Take a look at this.”

The needle on his counter wavered wildly back and forth, tipping so far into the red it hit against the far side and bounced back again.

“It’s getting all this from the clearing?”

“No. Well, some. There must be a few animals hidden—”

“Familiars,” Jared growled. “There’s a difference.”

“Right. Some familiars must still be hiding out of sight, so they’re causing a higher background reading than normal, but most of this is something else entirely.” Once again, he gestured towards the path to the cemetery. “Whatever’s causing it is coming from over there.”

Jared raised his nose into the air and took a deep sniff. “There’s something weird going on. Do you think Andrew’s having another go at ruining his burial ground?”

In the awful commotion of the morning, I’d forgotten our original troublemaker. We set off for the cemetery, Aunt Florentine and Genevieve following with reluctance.

When we emerged from the forest and tugged open the iron gate, I saw immediately that Andrew’s grave had been further disturbed. This time, it wasn’t just some petals tossed around. The ground looked to have been scooped out in chunks and a spattering of mud obscured his name.

“Do you think he did this?” Jared leant forward, using a snatched handful of grass to cut through the worst of the damage. “Is he trying to eradicate his death?”

“Who knows?” Patrick said idly, his concentration focused on the whirring machine in his hands. “This is so far off the scale, I don’t even know how to measure it.”

“Oh, pity. Your one skill is now rendered useless. Shame.”

Jared winced when I slapped him on the forearm. “Don’t start that nonsense again.” I moved one plot over, startled when a large black bird landed on the imposing headstone. It fixed me with one beady eye, leaning forward to tap a tuneless beat on the marble. “What’s that? A crow?”

“We don’t have crows in New Zealand,” Patrick said, peering at the bird.

“Don’t have wolves either, but…” I gestured to Jared whose beard seemed to thicken with every passing hour.

“They have rooks down in Otago,” Aunt Florentine said, stepping back as another bird landed on the grave. “Perhaps it’s come up to warmer climes for a holiday.”

Another bird landed a second later, crowding the first off its perch, so it landed near its companion on the grave. The way it tilted its head, catching a still photo of me with first one eye then the other, creeped me out.

“Shoo.” I waved my hands and stepped closer. “Get out of here.”

Instead of moving, the birds just pecked at the ground while the one on the gravestone tapped out a new beat. Another bird joined the pack, pulling a juicy worm out of the soil and tipping it down its gullet while it squirmed.

“Benedict Kelburn,” I read off the