Page 44 of Fresh Old Bounties

I would mourn the loss of the spellbook later.

No, I told myself with sudden resolve. There would be no mourning. I would figure out how to track this bastard down and get Grandma’s spellbook back.

The thought wiped away the burning in my eyes and settled my churning stomach into deadly calm. This guy had no idea of what was in store once he left this room.

Unaware of my silent vow of revenge, the man kept his gun trained in our direction while flickering his gaze down to the spellbook. He opened it and flipped through some of the pages.

“What is this? A joke?” he demanded, returning his full attention to us. “I said to bring the spellbook. Hazel Oakes’s spellbook.”

I swallowed at the anger in his voice. “That’s her spellbook.”

“Stop trying to mess with me.”

“But that is Grandma’s spellbook.”

“This is not the spellbook,” he barked. “Bring it now.”

At my shocked blank stare, he moved the gun back to Dru. “Twelve.”

“But…”

“Eleven. Ten.”

“That’s the only spellbook I have!”

He narrowed his eyes. “Nine.”

I moved in front of Dru. No way I was letting her get hurt because of me. “I’m serious. I don’t have any other spellbook.”

“Hope, move,” Dru whispered behind me.

Like hell.

I heard her shuffle on the floor, and the man’s gun moved slightly. I summoned my magic. I wasn’t sure of what I could possibly do with it, but I would do it. No Hazel-Oakes witch was going down without trying.

“Eight.”

A thick black shadow shot out of the faucet. A giant tentacle smacked the man right on the head, sending him flying into the opposite wall. The gun went flying. The man hit the brick temple-first with a loud thwack, then crumpled down to the floor, unconscious.

A deadly silence gripped the kitchen.

My mouth fell open, my gaze going from the man to the dark tentacle slithering back into the faucet, back and forth, back and forth, like a grand prize was on the line.

“Holy shit.” Dru choked out. “Is that a tentacle?”

“Goldfish ghost?” I asked in a weak voice. “Is that you?”

The tentacle stopped its retreat, its blunt end hooking onto the edge of the sink.

Swallowing hard, I moved closer. It seemed to be waiting for me to say something. For a tentacle, it appeared suddenly…shy.

I patted it awkwardly. “Thank you, goldfi—uh, kraken ghost.”

The tentacle vibrated at my touch, then snapped back into the pipes. Gurgling noises of happiness reverberated behind the wall.

“You have an octopus living in your pipes?” Dru asked, her voice shrill.

“I…I thought it was a goldfish’s ghost.”

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