Page 12 of The Accidental Witch

Slapping her thighs with resolve, Robbie rose from her chair. “Okay, so let’s get on with it then. What do we have to do that’s so imminent?”

Greer rose, too, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Dig up my grandmother’s grave.”

Werewolves, vampires, witches, fire-breathing hands, talking brooms—sure, okay. She was coming to terms with this madness.

But digging up someone’s grave?

That hadn’t been on her bingo card today.

Chapter

Four

Nina immediately snapped up a hand and glared at Greer. “Wait one fucking second, buddy. We’re not doing a damn thing until you give us some explanations and we make a few calls. Just because you know about us, doesn’t mean we know thing one about you. Sit your ass back down and explain how you found Ms. Firestarter and what the fuck you mean about graverobbing.” She pointed to the chair he’d vacated.

Greer sat back down without qualm. “You’re right. I was a bit vague in my haste to figure this out. I’ve skipped right past some crucial elements.”

“Ya think?” the vampire groused.

Wanda popped her lips and nodded. “Why don’t you start with how you found Robbie in the first place. This feels pretty random. How could you possibly know she’d be with us?”

“I smelled her—or I smelled her blood, her magic. It woke me from a sound sleep. I followed the scent.”

Robbie scanned the room, taking in all the medieval accoutrement, the large, disturbing tapestries on the wall, trying to focus on anything calming so she wouldn’t reveal the turmoil she felt on the inside.

He’d smelled her blood. Herblood. This was outrageous.

Yet again, the ladies didn’t bat an eye. In fact, Marty nodded her head. “That makes sense. So I’m going to assume this happened when the magic in the planchette was transferred to Robbie’s hand?”

“Is that how it happened?” he asked her. “It was stored in a planchette?”

Robbie’s eyebrows shot upward. “I don’t know if that’showit happened any more than I know what the heck you mean when you say the universe sent me a talking broom with a French accent. I’m not the expert here.”

He nodded his head, an amused smile on his handsome face. “Of course. What I meant to ask was, is that when you noticed a change in your hand, and where is the Ouija board in all of this?”

Now she felt like a schlub for being so pissy because he was being so nice. They were all being nice. Well, except Nina. And she didn’t mind that she was mean. It would only make Robbie work harder to befriend her.

“That’s how it happened, and I don’t know about the Ouija board. I never found that. And apparently I said something weird in a demonic voice and then,” she lifted the singed part of her hair and held it up, “this happened.”

Now he cocked his head, his own silky hair falling in a shiny wave, catching the light. “A demonic voice? Do you remember what you said?”

Tottington repeated what he’d told the women earlier, while Greer sat patiently listening with no expression on his gorgeous face.

He had no stinkin’ right to be so handsome, with his chiseled jaw, high cheekbones and his deep green eyes while she sat around, looking like she’d been dumpster diving.

“That sounds like my grandmother’s handiwork, all right. She was very angry before she was…eliminated.”

Nina leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees, her coal-black eyes flashing. “Eliminated? What the fuck does that mean?”

Greer sighed, his chest rising and falling, mesmerizing Robbie. “It means exactly what you think it means. My grandmother, Gwinnifer Winthrop, was a horrible creature. One of the most powerful witches to ever live, but she used that power for self-gain. Riches, among one.”

Robbie couldn’t help but snort. “Sounds like my mother.”

Tottington frowned at her, his lips thinning in disapproval.

Instantly, she bit the inside of her cheek and shut her mouth. “Sorry.” But it was a truthful statement. It did sound like her mother. In fact, there’d been a time or two she’d silently dubbed her the wicked witch of the west.

And now look who the alleged witch turned out to be…

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