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

<Get any food?> Annalisa’s head split open in a yawn that exposed far too many teeth. <I’m hungry.>

“You’re always hungry.”

<Paisley’s hungry, too.>

“She just ate a few hours ago.”

<That’s a long time in cat years.>

I stared at the two felines, not sure if this was a hill I wanted to die on. “You’re going to have to start contributing to the household finances if you keep eating this way,” I said in surrender. “I certainly can’t afford this on a single person’s salary.”

“You’re taking a salary?” Patrick’s mouth fell open. “Since when?”

“It’s a figure of speech,” I hurriedly assured him, trying to remember if the work kitty and the household kitty had ever crossed paths. “And you said we could draw funds out as soon as we got another client.”

“Pru isn’t a client until we’ve agreed on payment terms and issued an invoice.”

“Details, details.”

“The kind which ensures you end up getting paid.”

I ignored him for a minute, setting a couple of replenished bowls onto the floor and adding the old ones into a new stack of dishes—a pile that would horrify Aunt Florentine if she came back.

Once Annalisa sat back on her haunches, the initial onslaught on her food over, I asked, “What did you mean about Pru being mentally ill?”

<I said she was a nutter, not ill. She’s always been that way. Don’t you remember her from when you were little?>

Nope. Even the deepest crevices in my mind held nothing. “Do you mean she’s depressed? If my fiancé died, I’d get that way.”

<She took all her clothes off once and ran down the main road. It wasn’t even for a dare. The worst thing was, she was still teaching at the Briarton High School at the time.>

I relayed the information to Patrick. “Hardly evidence. She might’ve been streaking because her favourite rugby team was in town.”

<In the middle of the night? She also tried to burn down the town council offices when they demanded she pay an overdue parking fine.>

“That doesn’t even make sense. Who gets ticketed in Briarton? It’s not like the main road is packed bumper to bumper.”

<She drove up the steps of the council offices and tried to park in their lobby.>

“How long ago was this?” Patrick asked when I dutifully kept him up to date.

<The fire, probably five years ago. She also turned up in the middle of a wedding last year and gave a speech in the bit where the celebrant asks, ‘if anyone has any reason.’ Four marriage ceremonies got pushed back because every couple was scared she’d target theirs next.>

“Eccentric, I guess.” Patrick shrugged. “Still, it didn’t seem like she was lying.”

<In her mind, she probably had good reasons for all of it. Doesn’t stop her from being as mad as a fruit cake.>

“Poltergeists can be dangerous if provoked,” the nearest library book recited with uncanny timing. “If you have one active in your house, an exorcism is the only sure way to prevent damage.”

“An exorcism? I don’t think so.” Patrick hefted his cardboard box of tricks onto the kitchen table and began sorting through the machinery. “We needn’t call in the clergy until we’ve had a chance to evaluate the situation ourselves.”

I pulled the book close and silently read through the passage. “It’s not talking about a religious ritual. This appears to be something witches can do.”

<Just so long as they verify there’s something there, to begin with.> Annalisa licked her paw and began cleaning her ears. <The last thing you want is to perform a cleansing spell and find out the only thing haunting the house was Pru’s paranoia.>

<I’ve been part of one in the past.>

Annalisa and I stared at Paisley in shock. “When was this?”

<A few years ago. Back before…> She coughed into her paw as though I should be aware of the matter she was delicately avoiding. <Anyway, we had to force an evil spirit out of the old oak tree next to the Mitre 10 store. It kept hurling acorns at passing motorists until it became a proper hazard.>

“And it worked?”

<Park underneath it this afternoon and see for yourself.>

The cat stalked out of the room, preening a little under the attention. I couldn’t wait to find out her story and made a note to call Genevieve later if she didn’t remember to fill me in herself.

“This is what we need,” Patrick—blissfully unaware—announced, holding up a device that looked like a remote control welded to a metal detector. “This will track down an evil spirit even if it’s hiding under a mountain of camouflage.”

“Do poltergeists dress in camouflage?” I asked idly, barely listening.

<Even if they do, I doubt a machine that goes ping will scare them off. At least research a good pepper spray spell.>

My phone rang, Genevieve’s name popping up on the screen, and I excused myself, moving to the hallway. “I hope this is about Paisley because that’s one cat with a gigantic Violet-shaped chip on her shoulder.”

The supreme laughed, the sound transformed into shrillness by my low-quality cell phone speaker. “With good reason. You remember Violet Baker, who works with the Farmer’s Federation in their sustainable farming unit?”

Never heard of the woman. “Sure?”

“She got married to Carson Gibbs so her name’s changed now, but Paisley is her familiar.”

I made a hurry-up gesture with my hand, useless since I wasn’t on video. “And…?”

“And she had a baby girl back in August. Everything was going fine until three months ago, the little darling—I think her name’s Sara—got rashes on her arms that wouldn’t go away.”

I closed my eyes, understanding where that was leading. “Her daughter’s allergic.”

“Super allergic. Break out in hives from a dropped hair allergic, and Paisley—bless her heart—can’t stop shedding. The choice came down to putting her in a bubble or kicking Paisley to the curb.”

I wiped a tear away as my chest clutched. “That’s so awful.”

“She can’t even visit for fear of transferring hairs back home. They had to move into a new house to avoid the