Page 2 of The Witch is Back

Emma’s fingers tap-tap-tapped on the counter and she gave Leah a pained glance. It was forbidden to reveal to any human that witches existed, except if given permission by the High Family. Any witch that broke that law found themselves on the nasty end of a curse. And that didn’t even take into account what they did with the human.

Leah caught the look, held up her hands. “All right, fine. I’ll stop. With that. And now I get to focus on the real reason I came by.” She dug in her bag and withdrew a sequined party hat. It was pink and ferociously ugly. “Happy birthday!”

Holy... Emma blanched. “I’m not wearing that.”

“Oh, come on. It’s fun.” Ignoring her weak protest, Leah stood on the stool’s rungs to attach the hat to Emma’s head.

The elastic dug into her chin. She sulked. “You know I don’t like my birthday.”

“C’mon. I’ve let you ignore all your birthdays thanks to your weird aversion—”

Emma choked. “Let me ignore them? You hired a stripper for my birthday last year. And you forgot to pay him.” She’d had to suffer walking through town in mortified silence with a half-naked firefighter to the nearest ATM.

“You could’ve just spelled him to forget.”

She could have tried, but mind magic had never been her forte. Ask her to nurture a plant to health, she was your girl. Complicated spells that dealt with memory were a whole different ballpark. She could’ve ended up trapping him in his own mind or making him fall in love with a lamppost. Better a little humiliation for her than trying to detach a human from an inanimate object.

Leah rolled her eyes, either too naïve or too human to grasp the magnitude of what mind magic really meant. “Anyway, not the point. Let’s celebrate another year of you.”

Ugh. “How long do I have to keep this on?”

“Until you get a birthday kiss.” Leah waggled her eyebrows. “And I know just the man.”

Emma’s groan was heartfelt. Leah had the worst taste in men, and Emma knew some pretty terrible guys. Warlocks took arrogance and polished it to a high shine. She didn’t have that much experience, having only really dated in the past couple of years when...well, when he hadn’t come for her. But dates seemed like a lot of work.

Men expected her to be pretty and laugh at the right time and toss out witty comments that edged on flirty. Unfortunately she was all-around average—brown hair, brown eyes, brown personality. Too timid, too shy. Too serious. Even the nice guys had barely restricted their yawns behind their menus. Any witty comments were kept to herself for her own amusement. As always.

And then there was the other factor. Bastian.

The name sent a ripple of emotion through her. None of it good. And much too complicated to explain.

“I don’t want to date right now” was all she said to Leah’s expectant expression.

“I swear, I am going to drag you out of the nest, Emma Bluewater, whether you like it or not. At some point in your life, you are going to have fun on your birthday.”

“I’m meeting Sloane for a movie tonight. You know I can’t cancel on her. Even if I wanted to ditch her for a man.”

Leah sighed, adjusted her cap. A lock of sunny hair drifted out to curl against her cheek. “You really crush the dream I’m nursing that male witches,” she mouthed, “are good lovers. They can’t be if you’re this against dating. Or maybe they are and that’s why. We don’t measure up.” She gauged Emma’s expression. “Are they? You’d tell me, right?”

Emma smiled and took back the pen and paper to cross out the witch doodles. “Any new rescues today?”

Leah gave her a speaking look but surrendered with good humor. They chatted about the shelter for a bit—well, Leah talked and Emma listened—and whenever anyone came up to the bar, Leah distracted them with cheerful small talk while Emma filled the order. Must be her birthday, Emma thought wryly. Usually she was pushed to “put herself out there.”

“Before I forget,” Leah added as a woman paid for her two Cokes and carried them off. “You, me, Tia, drinks tonight. After the movie,” she said when Emma opened her mouth to counter. “I know I’m working, but Tia promised to mix us up something special.” A set of dimples appeared. “Something witchy this way comes.”

“Last time Tia made drinks, I ended up with pink hair.”

“And you looked so cute. A little fun is just what you need. Drinks,” Leah commanded with a firm nod. “We’re doing drinks. And I will finally get a potion right.” Even though she was human, Leah was convinced she’d one day master the art of potion-making. Or the perfect witchy cocktail, in any case.

On that topic, she cocked her head. “We still got any of that powder you mixed up last time? You know, the one that tasted like raspberries and lost fantasies.”

Emma gave in as always with a grin at Leah’s romantic description. “Falayla root. It’s in the storage room.” And packed one hell of a punch when added to cocktails. For a witch, it gave a nice, dreamy buzz. For a human, it hit like five shots at once.

“I’ll check if we’ll need more for the drinks I’m planning.” Leah winked and jumped off the stool. “Hold tight.”

Emma watched her friend walk off, watched the men in the room watch her go. Leah had that essential feminine something that men seemed to react to, a sway to her hips that drew attention, even with the cap. Maybe the cap helped. Maybe men liked seeing a sports team on a woman’s head. Emma certainly wasn’t an expert.

Seeing nobody else to serve, she dragged over the box of bottles she’d carried up earlier and bent to restock the under-the-counter fridge.

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