The Witch and the Dead by Heather Blake Read Free Book Online

Lunumbra spell every single day now. I’ve always memory-cleansed him in the past when my photos didn’t turn out, because of all his questions. Now I wonder if he’s been taking pictures of me when I didn’t realize it. Why else would he be so fascinated with taking my picture?”
    The spell was the one that allowed Wishcrafters to be visible on film and video. As she explained, I went about gathering spoons and napkins, and because I didn’t have a sugar shaker yet, I put the whole sugar-filled owl canister on the island. “It’s a good question.”
    â€œAnd lately I’ve been finding witchcraft books in his house,” she went on. “Not just one or two but ten, fifteen. I’ve seen Web pages bookmarked on his computer for witchcraft sites. And not only that, but sorcery sites as well.”
    The kettle whistled and I quickly pulled it from the heat and shut off the flame. The witchcraft fascination was one thing, because Vince wasn’t likely to find anything related to our particular Craft. There was very little out in the world related to our kind of magic. I think Harper had found the only book in existence about it, hidden in the basement of the bookshop, and she had that one under lock and key.
    Sorcery, however, was another matter altogether. Much of it was dark magic that anyone could practice with no rules. And it was powerful. Extremely.
    This was a disturbing twist.
    â€œDo you think he’s been using any of it?” I poured water into the cups and steam plumed. “The sorcery?”
    â€œI don’t think so. I mean, I’d feel it, wouldn’t I? A disturbance in my force, or something like that? I think it’s just a matter of time, though. But right now, that’s not the most upsetting thing about this. . . . As you know, his birthday was a few days ago.”
    I smiled. “That’s upsetting?”
    â€œIt’s what he
wanted
for his birthday, Darcy.”
    I sat on a stool. Ordinarily I’d have wiggled my eyebrows and teased her, but her demeanor told me this wasn’t a laughing matter. “Oh?”
    â€œHe bought two of those DNA kits that trace ancestry and wanted me to do one with him. I couldn’t. I’m not sure anything wacky will show up because I’m a witch, but I can’t take that risk. Crafting is hereditary. There has to be something within us that’s not quite normal. Vince and I had a huge fight about it because I refused to take the test. He’s not just a Seeker, oh no. He finally admitted to me that he’s convinced he’s a witch—or, in his words, a ‘warlock.’”
    Crafters didn’t use that description for males within our society. “Witch” was used universally. “Did you try to talk him out of it?”
    â€œNot really. I was too scared that in the heat of the moment, I would say something that as a
mortal
I shouldn’t know. I was hoping that ignoring him would work, but then he went off and hired Glinda to help him trace his ancestry.”
    Glinda Hansel was a former village police officer turned PI. We’d once been adversaries but were slowlypiecing together a strange sort of friendship. As a witch herself, surely she wouldn’t string Vince along. . . .
    â€œI’ll talk to her,” I said. “See if she can convince Vince to let this all go.”
    â€œI was hoping you’d say that, because you know I don’t want to do it. Talk to her, that is . . .” Starla bit her lip. “She finally apologized, by the way. In person. With flowers. And what looked like actual remorse.”
    â€œShe did? When?”
    â€œA few weeks ago. She said she was trying to make things right in her life and had a lot of regret for what she’d done to me. She said she’d been wrong, plain and simple, and that she was very sorry.”
    Glinda didn’t like to admit when she was