Dewitched (Witchless In Seattle Mysteries Book 3) by Dakota Cassidy Read Free Book Online Page B

scream—a scream that chilled me to the bone, slicing right through me.
    Oddly, it was a familiar scream.
    One I swear I’d heard before.
    In that moment, I wondered if the Bats had disobeyed orders to stay put in my room.
    But then I saw my mother—on the top step of the porch stairs—her face riddled with horror and disbelief, the light shawl she wore falling about her slender shoulders as she clutched it to her breast.
    My stomach sank right to the bottom of my sparkly shoes when she cried out, “Bart! It’s Bart! He’s dead!”

Chapter 4
    I ran for the front steps, my ridiculously high heels sinking into the brand-new sod. Grabbing the wrought iron and wood banister, I pulled myself upward just in time to keep her from falling on the porch floor in a graceful heap.
    I tapped her face with my fingertips, brushing them across her flushed cheeks. “Mom? Mom!”
    She crumpled against me, heaving a long sigh as Sandwich and Officer Nelson plowed up the steps and forced me to move out of the way.
    “Put a call into the paramedics, Paddington!” Officer Nelson ordered, scooping my mother up to lay her flat on the porch and check her breathing.
    As everyone began gathering around, their curious eyes on us, what my mother had yelled before collapsing finally registered and had me pushing my way past one of our local doctors, who’d come to help.
    I stepped into the entryway, my heart throbbing in my chest. There was plenty of activity still going on in the kitchen as the French chef shouted orders to his staff and loud music played amidst the chaos, so wherever Bart was, it wasn’t in there.
    Closing my eyes, I swallowed hard and opened them again. Turning to my right, I looked into the dining room, ablaze with a rustic candle chandelier and a table full of housewarming gifts we’d asked everyone to forgo, but had somehow managed to amass anyway. I saw nothing.
    I took a deep breath and decided to venture to the parlor. There was a loud thump before I entered, making me wary, but I went in cautiously anyway, and that’s when I saw him.
    Bart, in a heap on the floor, the sheet from the cirque acrobat wrapped around his neck.
    Instantly my eyes went to the pulley above him—the one the engineer had said wouldn’t fall down in an earthquake, after I’d mentioned my misgivings—but nothing looked out of place or askew.
    And what would Bart be doing climbing an acrobat’s sheet, anyway? He looked like he took great care of himself, and I wasn’t sure if that was due to the fact that he was a warlock, or because he worked out. But he sure didn’t look like the kind of guy who’d want to float around in the air on one of those silky sheets.
    Now I doubted myself. Was he a warlock? (I can’t tell who’s human and who isn’t, since I lost my powers.) I couldn’t remember if my mother had said one way or the other…?
    No, wait. Now I remembered. Yes. Yes, he was definitely a warlock.
    Rooted to the floor, I could only gape at my poor stepfather, his body twisted at an odd angle as though someone had hoisted him up toward the ceiling and let him crash to the floor. By the looks of it, he’d broken his left leg from the impact, given the way it was twisted awkwardly behind him.
    There’d been a struggle, of that I was sure. The gorgeous crystal vases housing calla lilies and hydrangeas were smashed on the new hardwood floor of deep walnut. The lamp on top of the chest of drawers was tipped over and one drawer was crooked.
    “Dove?”
    I sighed in relief when I heard Win in my ear. “Yes?” I managed on a squeak, wrapping my arms around my waist.
    “Come away. Don’t linger.”
    “As if. You know me better. I can’t just walk away. I never walk away.”
    “I do know you, but this is quite personal.”
    “More personal than my favorite tacos in the whole world?” I asked, referring to how we’d solved the mystery of my favorite taco man’s death.
    “He was your stepfather, Stevie.”
    “But…I