Page 17 of The Accidental Witch

Robbie nodded with a smile. “She’s a female, though. They’re all from the same litter, but I couldn’t resist keeping the theme going.”

“Why not Milady de Winter…or Constance?”

“You read?” So much of her life had been spent in a world created by a writer in order to escape the reality of being a Tisdale. It was nice to find someone else who enjoyed reading.

He grinned as he picked up Porthos and cuddled her. “I love to read. I feel like that surprises you.”

She laughed. “I didn’t name her Milady de Winter because, first, she was a traitor. Second, it’s a mouthful when you have to call them all for dinner. Oh, and I have a cousin Connie who’s as horrible as my mother.”

“Gotcha.”

Wanda held up a finger as she looked at her phone. “Hang on—this is January calling.” She hitched her jaw toward Robbie’s bedroom. “May I?”

“Of course.”

As Wanda went off to talk to the doctor, Robbie couldn’t keep her eyes from the plastic Twister mat, still on the floor, the planchette in the corner of the room where she’d thrown it after it zapped her.

“So that’s the perp?” Greer asked, one eyebrow raised.

“That’s it.” A nervous habit had her reaching for a strand of hair to twirl around her finger and wondering if it would now grow back the way Nina’s had.

She guessed as a witch, she wasn’t afforded the ability to regrow her hair like a vampire. Nina’s hair was almost down to her shoulder now, and Robbie’s was still singed. “Any idea how your grandmother put her magic into that thing?”

Greer sighed and shook his head. “I don’t have any idea howanyof this is happening, but I’d have to guess that planchette went with a Ouija board at one time, and Gwinnifer owned it. Any idea who lived here before you?”

“Probably not your grandmother. If she abused her powers to gain riches, I have to think this wasn’t her idea of ‘rich’. But I could ask Mrs. Campisi if she remembers. She’s been here forever, according to her.”

He set Porthos on the ground and stooped to pick up the planchette, turning it over in his hand. “I guess it doesn’t really matter. It’s my grandmother’s magic in your hand, no matter how the planchette got here.”

“But if thatisfrom your grandmother’s Ouija board, maybe the person who had the apartment before her knows something that will help us find out if she’s alive.”

Without digging her up. Because full-body chills, thank you very much.

She really didn’t want to dig up this woman’s grave, no matter how horrible she was. If they could avoid that, she wouldn’t be mad.

He nodded his agreement, making the scent of his shampoo waft to her nose. “You’re absolutely right. Let’s ask Mrs. Campisi then.”

Tucking her left hand against her chest, she wondered, “How long has your grandmother been…gone?”

He looked down at the floor and its ugly green shag carpet straight outta the ’70s. “Almost five years.”

She reached out and touched his arm briefly, careful not to linger even if his forearm, for a forearm anyway, was ridiculously sexy. “I’m sorry, Greer.”

He looked at her then, forcing her eyes upward. “Don’t be. I, much like you with your mother, despised Gwinnifer. She was an insidious woman who deserved to be expunged. I have my fingers crossed that this is all some sort of crazy fluke, and she’ll still be in that grave where she belongs.”

“But you don’t know of any other reason her magic would still be alive, if you will, unless she was alive, too?” That made her shiver.

Greer took her hand, squeezing her fingers. “I’ve never heard of it occurring before, and I know I keep saying that like some broken record, but I honestly don’t know of any other way this could be happening. Her magic should have died along with her physical body.”

“Can someone else keep it alive?”

“I’ve never heard of that happening.Never.”

Trying not to melt right in front of him from nothing more than a fleeting touch, Robbie gently removed her fingers from his and cleared her throat.

“So, let’s say she’s still unalive and this is some fluke. What does that mean for me? Do I get in trouble for having her magic? Is it considered stolen, like some kind of witch felony? Do I keep this magic? Will I always set people’s hair on fire? I can’t goaround with the hand of doom forever. Someone’s going to get hurt.”

He chuckled, his eyes dancing. “Sorry, but the hand of doom? Clever. Though on a serious note, no to almost all of your worries. No, it’s not a felony. No, you won’t get into trouble. However, yes, I think by default, it’s your magic now, and you’ll learn to control it. I’ll teach you how. If this magic really is Gwinnifer’s, you won’t believe the things you’ll be able to do.”

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