Page 167 of Mayhem and Minnie

She blinks repeatedly, her eyes roaming around to find an exit. When she realizes she cannot escape, she comes up with the most outrageous excuse.

“I… I haven’t washed today!” she suddenly says. “I’m veryyy smelly, Marlowe. I wouldn’t want to offend your sensitive nose with my stench.”

The little heathen… My lips curl up at her measly attempt to escape.

Leaning in, I touch the tip of my nose to the curve of her neck, inhaling her scent.

“I like your smell. A hint of spice. A hint of flowers,” I drawl. “Soon, there will be a hint of me, too. Right here,” I whisper as I place my finger atop her pulse point. “And here…” I continue, trailing up her neck until I skim the surface of her lips. “You’ll be smelling of me everywhere, Minnie.”

“I…” She trails off as she panics. “I ate garlic,” she bursts out. Her hands cup my cheeks as she brings me to the same level as her face. Opening her mouth, she blows rancid air toward me.

I immediately wince and take a step back.

“Good grief, what’s that odious stench?” I curse as I squeeze my eyes shut and rub my nose.

That’s not even garlic. It’s something so putrid I get full-body shivers from it.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaks as she dashes up the stairs.

I’m left gasping for air as I watch her retreating form, yet something solidifies in my mind.

Her breath didn’t smell before. I’m certain of it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been fantasizing about devouring her lips the entire time we’ve been carrying this conversation. I was literally salivating for a small taste.

But that only proves my point. She must have done it on purpose to end this conversation.

There’s something unnatural about Minnie. And I aim to find out exactly what.

A few hours later, and instead of working, I find myself going down a rabbit hole investigating witchcraft. The historical documentation goes back centuries, but I don’t have time for that.

I need something more recent. Something I can use to prove with certainty that Minnie is a witch.

There are countless pages for covens. Apparently, they still have those. They’re public, too.

Of course the main issue is that these are only wannabe witches who think they have powers.

I want the real deal, not some delusional people chanting hocus-pocus.

These websites even have membership sign-ups for a monthly fee.

I scoff aloud.

Witches my ass.

I resume my search, and by some stroke of luck, I end up on a forum for witches based in the state of New York.

Although the entries are mostly about medicinal plants and incantations, there seems to be a common thread. One poster, a certain SarahJ, is the one answering all questions posed on the forum. From the replies, it appears she’s got quite the loyal following, with some referring to her as a Grand Master—whatever that may be.

Hmm.

I click on her profile and look at all the posts she’s interacted with. It takes me a few minutes to comb through the useless herbal threads to get to some more interesting bits.

There’s one post asking about divination, to which Sarah replies by giving her email address and encouraging the poster to get in contact.

I jot down the address.

I scroll more and find a different post talking about a love potion.

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