Page 94 of Sigils & Spells

From somewhere in the living room, my phone rang.

Dad glanced at his watch, then pushed back from the table. “I should go. I have a Department head meeting in half an hour.” He picked up his plate and cup.

I stood and, following the ring tones, hunted down my phone.

Dishes clattered in the sink.

“Marin, don’t break into any more buildings. I don’t know any criminal lawyers.”

“You’re so funny.” I found the phone perched on the arm of the couch.

“I’m serious.”

“Bye, Dad.” Priya’s name displayed on the screen. “Good morning, Priya.”

“I know you weren’t coming in for another hour,” she said without preamble, “but Ashley Johnson says she’s here for her spells.”

“I’ll be right down.”

*.*.*.*.*

Giventhe number of customers in Besoins and the sour expression on Ashley’s face, I steeled myself for a dramatic confrontation. Three witches who came in each Friday morning before their coffee clutch watched us from the dried herbs bins. A teal-haired witch cast covert looks our way from the book section.

“I’ll reconsider selling through you again when you wise up, Marin.” Ashley glared at a natural browsing through the shop.

As much as I’d love to point out the success of her sales was due to customers outside the witching community, it would likely provoke her into a tirade. Best to keep those thoughts to myself. “If you change your mind, you’re always welcome to bring in your spells.”

The teal-haired witch made a strangled sound that could have been a stifled sneeze or a half-snort. I glanced her way, wondering if she doubted I’d ever wise up or if perhaps she had a little truth-seeking in her blood and had registered my insincerity.

Either unfazed by or oblivious to the witch’s reaction, Ashley snatched her small sack of potions off the counter and stalked out.

Priya finished restocking a shelf of beeswax candles before joining me. “That went better than I expected. Think there will be any others pulling their spells?”

“Who knows? I hope not.”

Hand on hip, she studied me with cool indifference. “Hair in a bun. Gray pants. Ivory shirt. You’re rocking the corporate look today.”

Her paisley top was a riot of purples, greens, and blues. She had enough color for both of us.

“Good. I want to look my best for my eleven o’clock with the Stewarts. Their son recommended me. He’s a deputy for the county.”

“Impressive.” Priya ripped off the top sheet from a notepad. “Here.” She thrust a list of names and phone numbers into my hand. “I put stars by the ones you need to call. I can take the others. Most of the voicemails were from parents wanting to know what the assassin game is and if their kids were involved in it. Like we’d know.”

“I’ll return the calls before I leave.” I scanned the names. A giant star with an exclamation point caught my attention. Livie Dalton. What now?

Why hadn’t she called my personal phone?

The front door banged open. A woman with sunshine yellow hair and big-framed glasses rushed inside. “Jess! Arial! Heather!”

The witches picking through the plants and herbs rushed forward.

“Did you hear?” The flush-faced newcomer’s chest heaved as if she’d run a great distance. An impressive feat given her peep-toe stilettoes. “They found another witch’s body.”

I felt both shock and dismay at her news. A dead witch. Did I know them?

Wait. Another?

“Who?” Arial asked.

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