Page 46 of SIN Bone Deep

Nova grimaced. “I hate the basement,” she complained.

“I’ll get the paint for you,” I offered. “I have to work,” I added to Callista. “The late shift. So, I’ll be able to help until then…”

“I guessed as much from your clothing,” Callista observed.

“Not the late shift,” Fennel complained. “We don’t like you riding up and down the hill in the dark, Nyx.”

“I don’t like it either,” I agreed. “But what can I do? Only over eighteens can close and Kristine called in sick. She’s probably fucking that married man of hers,” I added under my breath. “So skeezy.”

“We judge the man, and not the woman,” Callista replied primly as she sat at the table with her bowl. “He is the one married.”

“She knows though,” I pointed out. “And does it anyway.”

“Still, she is not the one breaking her marriage vows, nor hurting a wife and children.”

“It’s Kristine Sawyer,” Nova was on my side. “She probably seduced him on purpose and gets off on hurting his family. She’s an evil bitch.”

“Nova,” Fennel disapproved. “This is not a conversation for the breakfast table.”

“So, let’s talk about those guys from last night, and what we’re going to do about them,” Nova jabbed her porridge with her spoon.

“I called the police,” Callista replied.

“Yes. But…” Nova looked up frowning. “What else?”

“What else do you want me to do, my dear?” Callista asked with a small, tight smile.

“We’re witches,” Nova pointed out. “Surely there’s more that we could do than make poppets,” she pointed to Fennel’s handiwork.

“The craft should be used with restraint,” Callista set her teacup down on the saucer. “And as a last resort. We will speak with the police, first.”

“Then what’s the poppet for?” Nova didn’t give ground.

“To make sure that the right person talks,” Fennel smoothed the poppet’s hair. “That much we can do.”

“I’ll go get the paint,” I said standing and taking my bowl to the sink. I took the pantry stairs down into the basement.

In horror movies, basements are frightening places of monstrous items, dense shadows, and red-eyed rats. We did have some truly monstrous things in a locked cupboard at the back, but the aunts were the only ones who could open it. I had seen inside only occasionally, a glimpse of things floating in jars that were organic and supernatural in nature, but never enough to study the details of them. They were dark art ingredients, and the aunts preferred not to dabble too deeply in the darker side of magic.

Other than that, our basement was tidy, organized, and dust and cobweb-free. A lazy cat slept on an old chair and glared at me as I inspected the shelves, but that was the scariest thing I found down there as I retrieved the paint supplies and carried them back up with me to the kitchen.

Fennel was doing the dishes and singing along with the radio as I passed.

Nova and Callista were out front inspecting the damage to the front of the house and when I joined them Callista handed me a pair of work-gloves and an old shirt to cover and protect my own clothes with.

“We should take photos,” I told her as I prized open the paint can and stirred it with a stick to mix the paint, driving it through the death's head skull that formed in the liquid with determination. “For the police.”

“No need,” she glanced over her shoulder at the crunch of gravel, and we all turned as a police car pulled up. The police sat in the car for a long moment, keeping us waiting on purpose, I was sure, resenting being called to the Vossen house. They got out slowly, hitching their belts before strolling over to us.

“What’s the problem here, Callista?” Sargent Collins asked with a roll of his eyes to his partner, Constable Liams.

Callista arched her eyebrows. “Do you not notice anything odd about the house, Jacob?” She sighed heavily in irritation. “I was quite clear over the phone. Was the message not passed on?”

“You had some rowdy visitors last night,” Jacob Collins postulated.

“No,” Callista’s voice was tight. “We were attacked last night by two carloads of men, who threw things, broke windows, spray painted the side of the house, and tried to set fire to our garden whilst yelling abuse and demanding entry.”

“You have a lot of enemies. Pissed off the wrong husband,” Constable Liams decided.

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