Page 14 of Fresh Old Bounties

It almost made me wish I did have the spellbook for sale. Almost.

It also reminded me that Bagley would’ve never felt the need to sell her spellbook, because judging from what I’d surmised about her dark magic prices, she’d been making bank.

Money that was floating somewhere, ready to be found and put to good use. Like, say, Dru’s down payment for the Corner Rose. The idea perked me up immediately.

I checked my messages, but Hutton hadn’t answered with the account he’d transferred the potion money to. Probably didn’t want to leave proof of his evil purchases. I considered the time. Calling him now wouldn’t put him in a sharing mood, so instead I sent a text to Brimstone and Destruction asking for the account he used.

Now it was time to do some research on Dru’s ex-boyfriend.

He was easy to find. He held a high-level position at the company now, and his social media presence was strong. Lots of photos of him in different suits and a few in rolled-up shirtsleeves that left no wonder how he’d been able to seduce Dru. His smile was always brilliant and his brown eyes warm, his posts strictly professional with no romantic dates to be found.

If I’d screwed someone over like he had Dru and who knows how many others, I wouldn’t risk it, either.

I browsed back to my own social media and checked Ian’s. He’d added a new photo today of some repaired moulding. Not exactly the kind of thing to bring one palpitations, but the obvious love he had for his business shone through, and that was enough to make my heart squeeze and leave a way more enthusiastic comment than the post required.

Reply to other’s posts with what you wish to see for your own.

Another very important tenet of witchhood.

Monday dawned still overcast and dreary, which meant I wouldn’t get clients until later in the day. It gave me plenty of time to go on my money-finding adventure.

Unlike his alpha grouchiness, Brimstone and Destruction had no trouble answering my text about the payments with an email address. Just a sequence of numbers and letters that made no sense to me but were likely some evil internal joke for Bagley. First kill date and initials? Code for “gotcha, loser?” The possibilities were endless.

He also sent another text requesting one of his fake dark magic potions, so I told him to come Wednesday evening. He always insisted on witnessing the making of his potion, and I didn’t want to interrupt my current quest for Bagley’s money.

I went into the back to call Hutton. I expected to have to call him at least three times, but he picked up on the first try. It surprised me so much I blanked for a second on answering his rough, “What?”

“Good morning to you!” I said brightly.

“I’m hanging up.”

Hah. “No, you’re not.” He had picked up too fast—he was curious about what I had to say. Or worried that the spell I’d done on him had horrible, unforeseen consequences such as the world had never seen.

“Witch,” he said in warning.

“What account did you use to transfer the payment for the potion?”

“That again?”

“I enjoy getting paid for my work.”

“I paid you,” he said in outrage.

“Well, I can’t find the money.” I injected a note of innocent doubt into my voice. “Maybe you sent it to the wrong place?”

He inhaled sharply. “Are you accusing me of trying to scam you?”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“You better not.”

Seriously, how hard was it for him to simply spit out the email he’d used? Ghosts bled easier than this. “But can you just confirm the account for me?”

“Are you recording this?” he asked, full of suspicion.

“No,” I said slowly. “I only want to confirm the email address.”

He barked out a fast series of letters and numbers. “There you go. Don’t call again unless it’s urgent, witch.”

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