Page 4 of The Accidental Witch

Robbie sensed these women were deeply in tune with each other, despite their bickering and despite Nina’s angry words. In fact, she didn’t actually sound as much angry as she did totally over their admonishments, but in a weirdly loving way.

That obviously made no sense, and she’d have to chalk it up to her current predicament. Though mind, it didn’t makethem any less intimidating or scary, but there was an underlying respect they had for one another that was easy to spot.

Wanda released a long, clearly pent-up sigh of aggravation. “Nina, what have we told you? It isn’t the message, it’s the delivery. It’s how you ask if this poor woman has any health concerns we need to be aware of.” Backing up, she planted her hands on her hips in a pretty good imitation of Nina’s current stance, glaring at her friend. “Hey, lady, what the fuck is wrong with you? You got any shit we need to know about before we turn your fucking life inside out?” she asked gruffly, making Robbie actually snicker.

Marty clapped her hands with a gleeful giggle, making her bangle bracelets clack together. “Ooo, that was really good, Wanda!” she praised with a wink.

Wanda curtsied, tugging at the sides of her slender pencil skirt. “Merci, mademoiselle.”

“Fuck off, Marty, you ass kisser,” Nina said with a grin that surprised Robbie. Then she turned back toward Robbie, jamming her hands inside the pockets of her dark hoodie. “So what the fuck is wrong and how can we save your ass today? Forget saving your hair, because that ain’t lookin’ promising.”

Her right hand instantly went to her singed hair, but as she stared up at these woman, all waiting for her to tell them why she was here, her throat closed up.

“Robbie!” her broom called out from the corner, skittering toward her, making her flinch in fear. “You must tell zis divine angel what is wrong with you. Do not be afraid. I sense they can help. Especially zis miraculous creature with ze hair like black satin!”

Nina whipped around as Hervé scooted toward her, pressing close to her long leg with a soft purr. She snatched Hervé up by his handle so fast, the motion blurred. As he choked, shesqueezed her lean fingers so tight, Robbie saw veins pop in her pale hand.

“What thefuckare you?” she spat, her eyes on fire.

Robbie almost felt bad for him, but Hervé recovered just fine with a flirty response as he bent toward her, pressing his handle against her forehead. “Your dream come true. Enchanté, Mademoiselle! I am ze one, ze only Hervé, and you are an absolute vision,” he cooed seductively.

But Nina wasn’t exactly charmed by Hervé and his swishy French accent. She flashed her teeth at him—pointy, sharp-looking teeth—and then she hissed.

Robbie’s eyes flew open wide—and by the by, so did Tottington’s—just as Nina launched Hervé across the waiting room of the basement.

Without thought and with no clear reason why she reacted as she did,—she hardly knew Hervé, and what she did know was pretty durn annoying—Robbie yelled, “No!”

Throwing her hands in the air in distress, forgetting about her hand and its capacity for carnage, she flung her fingers forward.

Big mistake.

The biggest.

“What the fucking fuck?” Nina screeched, swatting at her head as puffs of smoke emitted from half of her glorious head of hair.

Hervé skittered toward Robbie, leaning into her with a quiver. “Merde,” he muttered.

Oh, sweet Italian sausage, what had she done?

Chapter

Two

Roberta Tisdale wasn’t the kind of girl who fainted—per se. Had she felt faint before? Sure. Had she actually fainted? No. Not to date. Not even when Hervé had skittered out of her pantry and scared the daylights out of her. But today?

Seeing the murderous look on Nina’s face after she’d burned off one entire side of her hair, after she’d scorched half her glorious locks off, leaving only at best, a half inch of hair sticking up? Today might be that day.

Her stomach turned, rocking as though in a boat on rough seas. She was gonna be in big trouble

But then the logical side of her took over and her mind began to race like a wild mare.

When Nina’s hair turned into a fiery ball of orange and red, she remembered Wanda’s words about Nina and the devil. If this woman had taken on the devil (which Robbie was sure was a metaphor for someone evil. It had to be, right? The devil wasn’t real), she remembered that must mean she was, at the very least, capable of real violence against a perpetrator, and in this case, Robbie was the perp.

Gulp.

As Marty and Wanda raced toward Nina, using a throw blanket to combat the flames, begging her to stand still while she swatted their hands, she screamed, “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill this bitch! Fuck whatever her problem is!”

Robbie took a really deep, fearful breath, reaching for Hervé and stuffing him behind her back to protect him. She didn’t know why. Hervé scared the absolute shit out of her, but she didn’t want him hurt.

---