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

“You can count on us,” I said, channelling my most reassuring voice. “It’ll be quite a novelty to be able to interview the victim.”

“Just don’t upset him,” she said, standing, her face whitening. “He got a bit angry this morning and I don’t think I could take it if he stayed that way.”

<Thank goodness.> Paisley shook her head as Pru left, then crawled back into my handbag. <Now that horrid woman’s gone, we can finally go and get lunch.>

I left Patrick in charge of prepping for our home visit to Pru’s the following morning and walked to the café. Paisley popped her head out occasionally to remind me she disapproved of me taking the slowest form of transport possible but ducked down when I reached the entrance.

Inside, there was a solid queue of people, with one old man at the front staring helplessly at the array of options available. Judging from the frustrated expression of the rest of the queue, he’d been making up his mind for a while.

If it had been just me, I might have abandoned ship right there, but I didn’t need Paisley adding another complaint to her internal list. Instead, I readied myself for a long wait and stared out the window.

The dentist office Patrick had roped into being clients had a beautiful window display. It showcased an old-fashioned dial phone in a cosy nook that seemed pulled straight from the seventies. Fluorescent green warred with acid yellow in a chaotic battle that made me feel nostalgic for an era I hadn’t even lived in.

We’d just shuffled one person closer to the counter when a group of people spilled out the store. One young man stumbled to his knees, and a couple lifted him under the armpits until he could stand again.

Their faces were uniformly horrified, a mix of gaping mouths, sodden eyes, and slack jaws. The same expressions that people pulled from the wreckage of a car accident would wear.

A man in his twenties walked out the door, either unaffected or so used to whatever had just happened that he could fake it. He tried to shove a card into each fleeing customer’s hand, but they pushed him away.

As he turned back to the store, shoulders slumping, a large black bird swung down from overhead. Its caw marked it as a foreigner—sharp and dissonant, unlike the soft songs that most native birds used to serenade each other.

One woman shrieked as it divebombed her, pulling up just before contact, leaving a feather floating down to land on the shoulder of her T-shirt. The bird zoomed upward, then circled in the air, before selecting a new target.

It fell out of the sky so fast I imagined the shrill cry of a Stuka scream. Just above the scattering group, it flung its talons out and scraped a thin line of pain on a tall man’s cheek.

Every muscle in my body stiffened, frozen in a war between running to help and sprinting away. When a lady near the front of the queue called out, “I’m a first aider,” and exited the store, I could breathe again.

Crisis averted. There was a grown-up in charge.

“Biggest blackbird I’ve ever seen,” the man in front of me said. “I hope it didn’t have rabies.”

“We don’t get rabies in New Zealand,” the server said.

“Until now.”

After witnessing the exchange, I kind of agreed.

With the ditherer out of the way, the queue began to move, and soon I was the one stood in front of the cabinet. Luckily, my wait meant I knew exactly what I wanted. “Two large cruffins and a chocolate éclair, please.”

The friendly blonde, nametag Brianna, opened a paper bag and grabbed her tongues out of the steriliser. “Chocolate or—”

Her words cut off and her face turned blank. I gave a polite laugh and nodded. “No, the Earl Grey,” but she didn’t respond. Her gaze became so unfocused she was close to having walleyes. I waved a hand an inch from her, but she didn’t flinch.

“Something’s coming,” she whispered, as I pulled out my phone to call an ambulance. “A murderer is coming. She shouldn’t have disturbed the—”

Brianna gasped and stepped back, shaking her head. She laughed, a sound with no merriment in it. “Sorry about that. My mind wandered for a second.”

“You were about to—”

“Earl Grey, then. That’ll be eleven dollars fifty.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? It looked like you had a seizure.”

“Right as rain.” Her eyes sparkled as she pushed the full to bursting paper bag towards me. “You’re not going to eat them all at once, are you?”

Instead of answering, I shrugged and passed my card across.

“Sorry, it’s been declined,” she said, turning the machine screen around to show me. “Do you have cash?”

I took the refused card back, feeling silly when I saw it was a Prezzy Card with only a few dollars left on the balance. “Just a sec.”

My reassurance came before I saw the credit card slot in my wallet was empty. One peek into my tote bag told me I’d have a fight on my hands if I wanted to dig around with the cat on board.

“There’s quite a queue, so if you could hurry,” Brianna replied, losing some of her twinkle.

I snuck my hand around the side of the black cat, giving a humph of relief as I felt the hard edges of my Mastercard. The transaction mercifully completed the second time, and I emerged from the bakery with my prize in hand.

Paisley popped her head out of the tote, a disapproving expression on her face. <Violet would never let her card decline.>

An hour later, I wiped the crumbs off the side of my mouth and sat back, patting my stretching belly. At my next lesson, I should ask Hadyn Malone, my magic teacher, a good spell for burning off excess calories. He’d probably tell me to take up jogging, but a girl can dream, can’t she?

Pouring a large glass of water, as though that would offset my