Page 106 of Fresh Old Bounties

“Hello, Mr. Crane,” I said, stepping forward. “We’re here to talk business.”

Crane moved back out of habit, and I sneaked inside the foyer. It was all light hardwood floors and white paint on the walls, giving it an airy, summery atmosphere.

“If you want to talk business, make an appointment with April. Now, get out of here before I call the police.”

I thumbed toward Ian, who, I was gratified to see, wore his scary scowl. “He’s the police.” Kind of.

Crane narrowed his eyes. “What is this about?”

“Your secret life as a paranormal broker.”

A sudden gust of wind slammed into me, and I was thrown backward into Ian. We stumbled a few steps back, and then the front door flew toward my face.

I yelped as the door closed right in front of my nose. “Air mage.”

“Yes.”

Pushing up the sleeves of my jacket, I got ready for some action. “You better get ready to shift. He might not go down easily.”

“No,” Ian said, and I wasn’t sure if he meant the shifting part or if he was agreeing about the incoming fight.

It didn’t matter. He had my back.

I pounded on the door with my fist. “Mr. Crane, open up! We’re not going away.”

“I’m grabbing my shotgun,” he yelled from the other side.

With his air magic, he didn’t even need to aim properly to hit us.

“Let’s not be hasty. We just want to talk.”

“Get lost!”

Asking wasn’t going to get us anywhere, so it was time to change tactics.

“We know you’re a broker,” I said in a lower voice but still loud enough to carry through the door.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His response was immediate and carried so much certainty I almost believed him. Almost.

“Come now, Mr. Crane, we both know it’s true. I only want to come to a deal about one of your, uh, services.”

“Miss Avery, consider our business agreement terminated. Find yourself another accountant.”

“Okay, but I’m more interested in your other business. We mean you no harm. We just want to talk.” And intimidate. And possibly blackmail.

That last part gave me an idea.

“Bagley left a note about you,” I said.

Silence reigned. Ian abandoned my side and slipped around the corner of the house. I watched him go with mixed feelings. Why was he checking the rest of the house now?

“Ms. Bagley? The old owner of the witch shop?” Crane asked, catching my attention.

“You know perfectly well who I’m talking about.”

“What about it?”

---