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

time, I’d end up with a sufficient amount to do something to Isabella. I just wasn’t sure what. And if I did kill her, would her protection spells on the house disappear, or would Angelica and I starve to death? Argh! Don’t worry about that. You’ll find a way—you always do. My heart wanted to race, but the half-strength freeze spell wouldn’t let it.

Isabella clicked her fingers in front of my face. “Lily? Lily, you are not listening to me. This is very rude of you.” I would’ve shrugged, but by the time it happened, she’d be onto the next thing. Instead of doing or slurring anything, I syphoned more power across. “I do not like to work in this space. I will move you to my studio.”

Damn it! What if her studio was in a different building? There would be no way to find Angelica later. Hmm, unless I could do something to the outside of the building that basically said “Angelica and Lily are here.” But what?

Before I had time to figure it out, she’d made a doorway around me. The room disappeared, and a different one materialised. It looked to be a reception room with the same terrazzo floor as the room I’d just been in. Were we still in the same house?

The door opened, and Isabella stood behind a wheelchair. She pushed it into the room and shoved me into it. “There. Much easier. Let’s get you into my studio.” I wanted to scream, but it would achieve nothing but tiring me out. Frustration sizzled beneath my skin. How dare she just manhandle me like that, treat me like I was an inanimate object to be moved about at her whim. It was as if she no longer saw me as a person. I’d become her next project. Possibly, in her mind, I was already made of glass—no longer alive, devoid of feelings.

But I wasn’t, dammit!

She pushed me down a hallway and into a large room that again had all windows covered. Even if I had been able to see out, it was still night-time, the landscape shrouded in darkness. It wouldn’t have helped me much, if at all.

An easel stood in the middle of one wall, and paintings hung from every available surface—Venetian landscapes and still lifes. A rustic green industrial-looking cabinet with small drawers stood about chest height, its top covered with all manner of small-animal glass sculptures. Oh my God, was that someone’s cat in amongst the pigeons, sparrows, mice, and fish? Hopefully, it had been an old cat ready to die before she did that to it.

She moved me to the middle of the room and used magic to lift me out of the chair. She manually adjusted my legs so they were straight rather than bent, and then I was standing. “Oh, splendido!” She grabbed my left wrist and used her other hand in an attempt to bend my elbow. Stuff making it easy for her. Even though I couldn’t move, I could still tense my muscles, making my arm rigid and unyielding. That’s right—there would be no more yielding today. All yielding was over, finished. I was not a mannequin. If I had my way, I’d make sure I was the worst-posed sculpture ever. If I could foil her attempts at a visually pleasing pose, maybe I’d be too ugly to ever display. That would suit me just fine.

She released my arm, then slapped it. “Boh!” She said some choice words in Italian whilst waving her arms. I could only assume she was swearing by the tone of her voice and her pinched expression. One point to me, zero to Isabella. I would have fist pumped, but, well, you know.

“Stop making this difficult.”

I painstakingly cracked a smile. Luckily, I was still feeling the mood when I finally reached maximum up-curl. Was that what it was like to be a tortoise or a sloth? By the time you could reveal your emotions on your face, the feeling had already passed.

She narrowed her eyes. “I prefer that you are alive when I start this process—the sculpture will be more lifelike. But I can kill you first, and it will still be beautiful.”

The warm flood of adrenaline lazily seeped through my belly, making me realise I needed to go to the toilet. Gah, what a time to notice. I pushed the thought away. I was not dying today. No way. I sucked in more power. It was never enough, but it was something to add to what was already there. I needed to concentrate, not get distracted by Isabella, so when she grabbed my wrist again, I let her treat me as if I were a Barbie doll. She arranged my left arm so it was bent, and my hand was on my hip. The other arm, she lifted vertically, with a slight bend in the elbow. My hand was bent back and flat, ready for something to rest on my palm. Her magic scraped the back of my neck, and something heavy, hard, and cold settled in my palm. My arm started bending more with the weight until she put her hand underneath it to stop it falling.

“Hmm.” She thought for a moment. Her magic returned, and whatever was on my hand disappeared. I couldn’t turn or raise my head fast enough to see what it was. Her eyes lit up, and she nodded, a self-satisfied smile on her face. She drew more magic, and something cool, heavy, slippery, and firmly squishy moulded to my palm, and around the back of my neck. What the hell? Gah, don’t be distracted. Suck in more magic.

I didn’t listen to myself. Instead, I looked down to whatever was hooked around the back of my neck and draping down my front. A gurgling noise came from my throat. Isabella laughed. “Do not worry, Lily. It is just a python.”

Just a python?! Snakes weren’t my favourite things, but then again, I didn’t have a phobia of them—I