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

he kicked out and caught a crow swooping in to attack from below.

“Try to find the amulet,” I yelled to him. “We’ll cover you.”

He ducked under another avian projectile, vaulting over the gate to reach beyond Benedict’s grave. With a cry, he dropped to his hands and knees, feeling through the long grass.

I shook my arms, concentrated my mind, and pulled up all the power I could harness. The magic bolt that shot out of my hands was fiery hot but tiny. Even though it struck its target, sending charred feathers into the air, the bird didn’t fall.

Once again, I tried, yelling in frustration as another reed-thin ray hit its target. “Bigger. I want bigger.”

Another burst hit a crow and it swelled to ten times its normal size. “Not the target,” I yelled at my hand as though it had deliberately misunderstood me. “The ray. Make the ray bigger!!!”

This time, a fat wedge of power struck at the birds, catching five in one blow. The stunned creatures hit the ground like falling rocks.

“There are more coming,” Aunt Florentine cried, pointing skywards. A black cloud of birds homed in our group, vengeful as a swarm of wasps.

With a gasp, I saw they were aimed to the back of the gravestone, where Patrick now scooped out handfuls of earth.

“Jared,” I called out, pointing. He nodded and jumped into the air, taking down half a dozen birds and clearing a path as I ran towards my business partner.

Annalisa joined me, tearing through the cemetery, and landing in a pounce beside Patrick. She jumped and caught a bird in mid-air, snapping its hollow bones with her powerful jaws.

“There’s a MURDERER ON THE LOOSE,” Andrew screamed. “WHY ARE YOU DOING NOTHING TO HELP?”

“Jeez, buddy. We’re trying the best we can.” The adrenaline coasting through my body turned the retort into a shout.

<He’s not talking to us.> Annalisa stared up at the glowing poltergeist and followed his gaze, slipping across to the next grave. <He’s talking to her.> She scanned the headstone. <Scarlett O’Malley.>

“Benedict’s murdered bride,” Aunt Florentine called out. She heaved a breath in, then held it as she sent out a ball of magic to knock another raven from the sky. “At least, that’s what the town historians would have us believe.”

“COME OUT. YOU PROMISED TO HELP.”

“I did help.” A beautiful apparition rose from the grave, filtering straight through Annalisa’s body and making her face twist in fright. “I tried to warn you. In the shop, I poured out my sorrow. When none of you listened, I tucked the bad witches away somewhere safe.”

The spirit tipped her head back, ghost tears streaming down her face. In an instant, the melancholy gripped me, turning my legs to rubbed until I collapsed to my knees.

“Please stop,” Jared choked out, his face rippling with the change. “I can’t bear it.”

“It follows me wherever I go,” Scarlett whispered. “All the life Benedict took from me when I refused his hand, it drips from me. I can’t stop it. The tap never runs dry.”

Meep tipped his head back and howled. Ferdinand, clinging to his collar, turned iridescent blue, his skin shimmering like it was encrusted with sapphires.

“HELP THEM MORE.”

Scarlett turned to Andrew, a soft smile lighting her face. “I bet you would’ve made a good husband.” Her expression turned to fury and she spat a blob of ectoplasm onto Benedict’s grave. “Not like this one.”

The crows stilled, jostling each other on gravestones as they landed, giving up the sky.

Under her thunderous gaze, I shrank away, unable to meet her eyes. The amulet sat in front of me, giving off a gentle glow.

“When they called Benedict forth, it dragged me and Andrew along with him.” Scarlett laughed, the sound sharp with malice. “Those kids didn’t know what they were doing. The treasure was never what they believed it to be. My amulet. The one Benedict gave me when my father tried to force me into marriage.”

“What do we do?” I pleaded, still unable to meet her eye. “How do I stop him?”

“Perhaps you don’t,” she said. The kind tone made her words even harder to hear. “Perhaps everybody just has to live with the consequences.”

“You said you put the bad witches somewhere safe. Why would you do that if you wanted them to come to harm?”

Scarlett’s form twisted, her face shoving close to mine though the bulk of her body stayed a few metres away, hanging over her grave. “Maybe I changed my mind.”

“Violet has a small baby.”

“She had a cat too, but she didn’t mind walking out on her when it was convenient.”

“THERE’S A MURDERER ON THE LOOSE. WHY AREN’T YOU DOING SOMETHING?”

<Stop yelling, Andrew. We don’t even know if you’re talking to her or us.>

“They were just kids,” I said, ignoring everything else to focus on Scarlett. “Teenagers who thought they could find treasure to help their families. Are you going to abandon them to Benedict for making a stupid mistake?”

“Why not? My family abandoned me.”

“And we all know how that made you feel.” I thumped my chest as my voice thickened. “It hurt you so badly that even a taste of your memory makes it hard for me to breathe.”

Scarlett’s face grew so large and angry that the sky around us darkened. She swelled upwards, Andrew keeping pace with her until together, they clouded out the late afternoon sun.

She grasped hold of Andrew’s outstretched hands and the two spirits began to whirl. Faster and faster. Their shapes blurred with speed, melding into one form, creating a vortex that fluttered the sleeves of my blouse.

Faster and faster. The pull of their energy sucked a crow from the sky. It only managed one raucous squawk before it vanished.

“Feed us,” Scarlett commanded. “We need more strength. Feed us whatever energy you have.”

“Here,” Patrick shouted, scanning an area of heightened activity on his machine. “You can pull power from here.” The second his display lessened he ran to another spot. The poltergeist’s sent out trailing wisps of their form to scoop