Right Hand Magic by Nancy A. Collins Read Free Book Online Page B

revealing a basic truth about you. He must have been, uh, must be an interesting man. Still, you must have a doozy of a green thumb!”
    “Not really. I grow herbs and other organics necessary for my salves and unguents, but most of the gardening is handled by a hamadryad that lives in that tree over there.” He pointed to a stately sycamore that stood in the far corner. “She’s pretty shy around strangers, so I doubt we’ll see her tonight.”
    We walked down a winding pathway past strange-looking plants, some of which seemed to rustle and move of their own volition. Hexe knelt and clipped a double handful of sage.
    “Since you’re a tenant, you’re allowed access to the garden,” he explained as he stood up. “So feel free to explore—however, steer clear of the maze. Humans were never meant to navigate it.”
    “Is it dangerous?”
    “It can be, if it has a mind to.”
    Before I could ask any more questions, Hexe turned and headed in the direction of the house. “It’s been a long day for you. I’m sure you must be exhausted.”
    “I’m doing okay,” I lied. As excited as I was about my new surroundings, I was pretty much running on fumes. Still, I didn’t want to admit my weariness, just like when I was a little girl and would protest being put to bed, even though my eyelids were so heavy I could barely keep them open.
    Hexe went up the porch stairs and unlocked the back door, ushering me inside. Sitting on the kitchen table like a Halloween centerpiece was none other than Scratch.
    “About time you got home!” the winged cat meowed. “I’m staaaarving !”
    “Bloody abdabs, Scratch! You know you’re not supposed to be on the table!” Hexe snapped. “We have to eat on that, you know.”
    “The nerve!” the familiar sniffed as he leaped onto the floor. “Here I am, practically skin and bones, and all you do is insult me.”
    “Poor you, you’re so mistreated,” Hexe snorted as he rinsed off the sage in the kitchen sink. “If you’re so clever, why don’t you pour it yourself? Oh, that’s right—thumbs.”
    “It’s not that I can’t feed myself; it’s that I refuse to,” Scratch said defensively. “Why should I, when I can get you to do it for me?”
    “All right! All right! Quit your bellyaching!”
    Hexe opened the pantry door and dragged out a fifty-pound bag of Purina Familiar Chow. Scratch’s eyes grew larger and took on an even stranger gleam than usual. Hexe opened the bag and withdrew an aluminum scoop, which he used to ladle out the dried demon kibble into a food bowl the size of a mop bucket. Hexe glanced up at me as he dumped a second heaping portion into his familiar’s dish.
    “You really don’t want to be in the same room when Scratch feeds,” he said meaningfully. “He can get . . . carried away.”
    As I could see a long strand of drool hanging from the corner of the demon’s mouth, I decided that was as good a time as any to say my good-nights and retire to my room.

Chapter 7
    I don’t know what else is in blackbird pie, but I do know it will make you thirstier than you’ve ever been in your life a few hours after you’ve eaten it. I was dragged out of a sound sleep around three thirty in the morning by my body’s need for water. I smacked my lips, trying to work up enough spit to swallow, but no luck.
    I stared blearily around at my surroundings, momentarily disoriented, until I woke up enough to remember that I was no longer living in SoHo. I also remembered seeing a watercooler next to the fridge downstairs. Since my rent included kitchen privileges, I lost no time pulling on a T-shirt and my yoga pants and heading downstairs.
    As I slaked my thirst with a glass of cold spring water, it suddenly occurred to me that this was the first time I was able to experience the house without either Hexe or Scratch being nearby. If the gothic romance novels I’d read in middle school were anything to go by, this would be the time I’d expect to hear