Page 30 of Sugar, Spice, and Magical Midlife

Merlin’s balls! I fought the urge to vomit my coffee back up as I asked the next question. “Who?”

Succubus.

Icy sludge hardened my veins and a fog of fear settled in my skull. I suspected that’s what the ghosts were going to say, but them confirming it made it all the more real, all the more terrifying.

The moisture evaporated from my mouth, making it hard to push out the next question. “Did the succubus frame Ric?”

Yes.

“Why?”

In the way.

No, no, no. I didn’t want to ask the next question, but I had to verify what I feared to be true. “Of what?”

You.

“Oh, Goddess.” I dug my fingers into the table with whitened knuckles. “I need to free Ric. But how?”

I looked up at what sounded like ruffling feathers above me. An envelope fluttered down and landed on the table. I opened it up and found a pay stub with Lenny’s name and address. Then I gave a start at a rattling sound when Ric’s truck keys fell on top of the table.

These ghosts wanted me to go to the crime scene? My stomach churned, though I knew I didn’t have a choice. I had to find this succubus before she found me.

WHAT IS AN ALPHA WITCH? I know you didn’t ask, but I’ll tell you in a moment. I summoned a wind and gingerly flew over the yellow tape, spellcast to warn humans this house was an active crime scene. The tape was also warded with barriers that repelled witches. Too bad I wasn’t an ordinary witch.

An alpha witch is considered an elite witch, one with extraordinary powers. Only one percent of the striga population is classified as alpha. We’re basically the valedictorians of the magical world. Yes, I said ‘we.’ According to my SWPK (Standard Witch Practical Knowledge) tests, I’m an alpha witch. My magic is powerful, very powerful. I pretty much mastered allspells and potions in my primary years and then slacked off in secondary school.

My parents told me never to reveal the true extent of my powers to my headmistresses, so I didn’t. And even though I held back on my SWPK tests, I was still classified as an alpha. Which was why breaking through the wards on the crime scene was ridiculously easy. Seriously, these investigators were pathetic.

Most witches never achieved the ability to master invisibility spells. I was able to master complete invisibility by age nine, the only reason I’m still alive today, and how I was able sneak into Lenny’s grandmother’s house undetected, wand at the ready should I come across a succubus.

The first thing I noticed was the smell, like burnt metal. It took all my willpower not to gag on the coppery tang of blood that left a foul residue on my tongue as I stepped over splintered chairs and shattered glass.

The house definitely belonged to an old husk. Colorful crocheted Afghans were strewn across the backs of toppled and torn sofas, blood matted the shag carpet, and broken cuckoo clocks lined the walls, their faces smashed. One of the clocks was still ticking as it struck noon. I jumped back, my heart wildly pounding when a few of the birds popped out of their holes, making garbled cries that pinged in my eardrums before they boinged back into their hiding places on twisted springs. There must’ve been at least two dozen busted and tattered cuckoo clocks. I couldn’t imagine humans living with that many clocks. The old woman must’ve had a mini heart attack every hour. That reminded me of something I’d read in theRegistry for Supernatural Creatures—succubi hated loud noises. I could only imagine the succubus coming to kill Lenny and then smashing the clocks after being startled.

Succubi also hated sugar and loved salty foods, which meant my next stop would be the kitchen. I had only made it a few steps into the kitchen when I saw it, the huge pile of raw meat sitting in the breakfast table chair.

What the hex was that?

I pulled out my wand as I cautiously approached it. I was too disgusted by the flies buzzing about the twisted pile of goo that I almost didn’t notice that one brown eyeball staring at me from the center of the pile. Bile burned my throat, and it took all my willpower not to heave all over the floor. I clasped a hand to my mouth. I had seen enough.

I spun on my heel, nearly tripping over a pile of empty chip bags and discarded bottles of seasoning and salt. I looked up at a smashed pantry cabinet. The bag of sugar was one of the few things still intact. Yeah, this was definitely the work of a succubus. Any striga with half a brain could tell, which begged the question...

Why did Gus accuse Ric of killing Lenny?

I RETURNED TO RIC’Shouse in a hurry, kicking up gravel when I pulled into the parking spot. I grabbed my wand and cautiously entered Ric’s home. The first thing I noticed was the heavenly aroma of fried onion and garlic. My mouth watered and my stomach grumbled. The ghosts were cooking?

Imagine my surprise when I arrived to find, of all things, a spinach and feta omelet waiting for me at the kitchen counter.

I thanked the ghosts and sat at the counter, wincing when a ghost put a napkin in my lap and poured me a glass of juice. I did my best to push all thoughts of meat-pile Lenny out of my mind while eating the eggs. They were absolutely delicious witha creamy, buttery cheese sauce that gave the eggs an extra kick. I could eat these for breakfast every morning.

“My compliments to the chef,” I said aloud, pleased when the dishes rattled in response. I wondered if Ric had planned on making me that omelet himself, or if he was going to have his ghost friends make it. Guess it didn’t matter now that I might never see him again. My throat tightened. I really liked him. Really,reallyliked him.

Was I ready to get married and settle down after one night of mind-blowing sex? Call me certifiably crazy, but no. I wasn’t ready to give up my independence just yet, not after getting out of a stifling relationship. Besides, an outlaw shifter didn’t exactly make for good father material, and I had to think of Des first. But hot damn, I wouldn’t have minded spending Des’s visitation weekends at Ric’s house for some more hot-tubbing, purr-licking, and ghost omelets.

After I finished my eggs, I downed the last of the juice and pushed away my plate. “Okay, ghosts. I need your help. It was a succubus who killed Lenny. I saw the evidence, but I have questions.”

No surprise, the Ouija board floated in front of me, the dial at the ready.

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