Spells and Scones by Bailey Cates Read Free Book Online Page B

falling-in-love chemicals were fading and life was getting back to the everyday, and while my husband was fine with all of that, I was having a hard time with it.” She sighed. “I occasionally listened to Dr. Dana on the radio, and for some reason that day—it was a Tuesday, I remember—I called in. She was just starting to tout her whole Radical Trust philosophy, and she asked me if I had any secrets from my husband.”
    My eyebrows raised a fraction.
    â€œI told her no.”
    â€œSo what was the problem?”
    Angie hesitated. She looked down at Mungo, licked her lips, and then met my eyes again. “She persisted. And there was something; something from my past. Sheinsisted that I tell my husband whatever it was, and that honesty would bring us closer together.”
    Little spikes of excitement mingled with my curiosity now.
    She squared her shoulders. “So that night I told my husband of a year that I used to be a practicingwitch.”

Chapter 5
    My mouth dropped open. Angie laughed, and I saw Quinn turn his head to eye us speculatively.
    â€œHe reacted like that, too. At first. Then he got really angry. Accused me of devil worship and a bunch of other stuff. Wouldn’t even listen when I tried to explain what modern witchcraft is really like.”
    â€œSounds painful,” I ventured. “Wait—you said you
used to be
a practicing witch,” I said, and as I spoke I realized something else that didn’t quite fit.
    â€œI stopped,” Angie said. “Before I got married. That’s why I didn’t think it was relevant to my marriage.”
    Confused, I blurted, “Why did you stop practicing?” I personally didn’t know if that could be possible. After all, my own mother had turned her back on her magical heritage for decades in an attempt to keep me safe in the small town of Fillmore, Ohio, but in the long run even she had come back to what was in her blood.
    Maybe Angie wasn’t a hereditary witch. Maybe she had just been a dilettante, dabbling in the Craft for a little fun.
    Now she looked down at the floor and shrugged. “I have my reasons.”
    â€œAngie,” I said.
    She looked back up, her eyes as dark as chocolate ganache.
    Surprised, and a little uncomfortable, I said, “You don’t know me at all. Being a former witch isn’t usually the kind of thing you’d tell a stranger.”
    She didn’t look away, but her eyes grew even wider.
    I pressed on. “So why did you just tell me all that?”
    She blinked. “Because you’re a witch.”
    Someplace in the background voices rose and fell, but my world had collapsed to a few square yards in the Fox and Hound children’s area.
    After trying twice to swallow and finally succeeding, I managed, “Why on earth would you think that?”
    â€œBecause of Mongo.”
    Yip!
It was a small sound, a doggie whisper rather than his usual vibrant bark. Not understanding why my heart was pounding against my ribs a mile a minute, I watched him look from me to her and back at me again.
    â€œMungo?” I asked, feeling stupid.
    She raised her eyebrows. “Is that what you call him? I called him Mongo. Pretty close. When I saw him, I knew you had to be a witch.”
    I stared at her, unable to speak.
    â€œHe was my familiar,” she said, and as the words flowed over me, I felt something
crack
. “When I stopped practicing he ran away. I guess he found himself a new witch.” Her smile wavered. “You.”
    I felt myself sway. Her hand flashed out to steady me. She looked over my shoulder.
    â€œKatie?” Lucy’s voice came from behind me. “Are you all right?”
    Angie’s hand fell away as I slowly turned to look at my aunt.
    â€œI’m . . . I’m fine,” I stammered.
    She didn’t look like she believed me, but she let it drop. “Peter’s ready to talk with