Westerham Witches and a Venetian Vendetta by Dionne Lister (top rated books of all time TXT) 📕

magic tickled my scalp, and a glass sculpture of a bird appeared in her hand, a pigeon.

I leaned closer to study the detailed work. “You did that?” She looked at me again but said nothing. I slapped my forehead. “Oh, right. You killed your son-in-law. But why?” Yay that I’d finally, with more than a lot of hints, figured out who the murderer was, but poo that it took until I was at said murderer’s mercy before I did. I was putting it down to the fact that I wasn’t the only one on holiday—my brain was right there along with me. I tried to ignore the icy fingers of fear skating down my back.

“He let my daughter have her way with everything. But he would never leave her, no matter how much they fought. It made my life difficult.” She pressed her lips together. “I put up with it for many years, but my… how you say… last straw was when he killed the pigeons in the courtyard.” She shook her head, anger radiating from her eyes. “He should not have done that.”

“I love pigeons… all birds actually.” Maybe I should try and turn myself into a pigeon to save myself? At the very least, I needed a bird costume. Should I start cooing? Honestly, after all I’d been through, if I was killed because of a freaking pigeon, I was going to be severely crapped off.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Oh, sorry. I was… thinking about pigeons. They’re so cute. I love feeding them, and how cool are they in Saint Mark’s Square, landing all over people.” Okay, and pooing on them, but I didn’t want to get into that now. The longer I kept her talking, the better. I needed more time to find a way out of this.

She smiled. “Yes, they are beautiful creatures. They bring life to the square. They have always been good company too. I once had a pigeon familiar, but he died ten years ago.” She sniffed. “I have been sad since he has gone.”

“I’m so sorry. That is sad.”

She nodded. “Thank you. You are a lovely girl. I’m sorry I have to kill you. I really am.” Her magic prickled my scalp, and the pigeon disappeared.

What the hell? I looked at the ceiling and threw my arms in the air. I hated being nice for nothing, well, not for nothing, but when it gets thrown back in your face, like letting people merge into your lane when you’re stuck in traffic. They push in by racing down the inside lane knowing people are parked there, and then they don’t even do a thank-you wave. Is it wrong that I always wished those people would crash their car? Hmm, being a witch, I could make them crash their car, and no one would ever know…. No, bad Lily.

Angelica groaned, snapping me out of my reverie. Isabella’s magic tickled my scalp, and a new needle materialised in her hand. She pushed my chest, and I stumbled backwards, away from her and Angelica.

“No!”

She stabbed the needle into Angelica’s arm. I found my footing and leaped to Isabella, shoving her out of the way—old lady or not, she was crazy and dangerous. The needle stuck out of Angelica’s arm, but no fluid had gone in yet. As I ripped it out, Isabella’s magic tickled my scalp. Crap. I drew from the river of power, but it was still glitchy—she must have a way around it. Damn it!

The needle disappeared from my grasp and shot into Angelica’s arm. For God’s sake. This was getting ridiculous. I moved to grab it again, but Isabella’s power slammed into me. It was as if a strong wind buffeted me, pushing me backwards. I tried to brace against it, lean forward. Just a few inches and I’d be able to touch the needle.

I strained my muscles and grunted with the effort. Come on. Just a couple more inches. The plunger slid down, pushing the liquid into Angelica’s body. “Nooooooo!”

And then it was done.

The wind died, and I flew forward, only saving myself by falling on top of Angelica. Annoyance gave way to seething anger, which heated my insides almost as much as drawing too much magic. Even if she wasn’t trying to kill Angelica, she could end up overdoing it by accident, not to mention, I was hoping Angelica would be able to help us escape. She might know the spell that was cutting off our magic and be able to undo it or something.

Isabella gave me a “you shouldn’t have done that” look and drew more magic. I tried to draw consistent power to make a return to sender. I just managed to get it up when her spell hit, but then my protection failed as the magic winked out again. She must have cast a freeze spell because she stood there, not moving, and my limbs felt heavy, like I couldn’t take more than one or two steps even if I wanted to. Hopefully, I managed to deflect more of the spell than I got. I turned with the speed of a teenager who’d just been told to hurry up and get ready for school. Hoping Angelica would be safe because she posed no threat, I tried to move towards the door.

Did I have gravity boots on? Trying to lift my foot off the floor was worse than walking through knee-deep mud. Even my breathing had slowed. Sweat popped out on my forehead as my right foot came completely off the floor, moved forward in slow motion, and landed. Time for my left foot. I couldn’t turn my head quickly either, so I was still half looking at Isabella and half at the door. She hadn’t moved. Did that mean she couldn’t draw power to undo the effects of the spell or was that even impossible with power after the fact? If only I had more of an idea of how all this worked. Whatever it was, I was