Page 33 of Highballs & Hexes

“What do you make of that, boy?” she asked in an American accent. It held the slightest twang, as if she were somewhere from the southern half of the country.

Part of him questioned whether she was referring to the light on the hill or her wayward false teeth.

“Do you know me, then?” he asked in reply. It paid to be careful. His mother had acquired many enemies in her lifetime.

Her grin widened, and her top denture flopped to the bottom of her mouth. Noah winced on her behalf. Getting old sucked, even for witches—wait a fecking minute!Witches didn’t age to such a degree unless they were hundreds of years old. And as far as he knew, his brother and him were the oldest.

Eyes narrowed, he approached her. “Who are ya, and why the disguise?”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just a tourist visiting a quaint little town.”

The sparkle in her purple peepers said differently.

“Are you here to spy on me? Or are you after something else?” he demanded in a steely tone, but he didn’t feel anything remotely close to evil intent radiating from her. Merely mischief.

“Young’uns today are a suspicious lot.” She sighed. “Looks like the light show is over. Pour me a drink so I can get off these old feet of mine, why don’t you?”

Keeping his senses sharp against an attack, he led the way into his pub, shutting the door after she entered and drawing down the shade. Facing her, he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes to show he meant business.

“Lose the disguise.”

The blinding light caused by her change nearly seared his eyelids shut and forced him to throw his arms up as a shield. The blonde bombshell who stood in the old woman’s place unhinged his jaw. She resembled an eighties movie star with herthick wavy hair, skintight lavender top, white palazzo pants, and chunky gold jewelry. A look she pulled off effortlessly.

“Much more comfortable,” she said as she sauntered to the bar.

“Who are you?”

“My name’s GiGi Gillespie.”

“Doesn’t mean anything to me,” he told her.

“No? Perhaps I should tack on my maiden name.Thorne.”

Having heard the Thorne name less than an hour before from his brother, Noah frowned. There was no such thing as coincidence in the magical world. “And how are you related to Nathanial?”

“You knew Nathanial?” When he shook his head, she shrugged as if she didn’t care one way or the other. “He was my great-grandfather. But you might be more familiar with my brother. Alastair Thorne.”

Everyone who possessed an iota of magic knew of Alastair, and not a single one of those people wanted to be on the man’s radar. If his sister was here, that meant Noah was now a blip on Alastair’s. He mentally cursed at failing to make the connection between Nathanial and her brother.

“Sure, and I’ve heard of him. Who hasn’t?” Casually, he meandered around the bar and removed a clean wineglass from the shelf. “Your drink is Merlot, aye?”

He prided himself on knowing these things. Earlier, he’d poured the Guinness for Damian simply to annoy him and force him to drink what he didn’t like.

“Yes. A Merlot would be lovely. Thank you.” She turned and sashayed to the table with the scrying map and crystals, her curvy hips swishing from side to side in a way that drew a man’s eye without fail. Just like they drew Noah’s. She turned as he approached, accepting the glass with a sunny smile.

“To what do I owe the honor of your visit, GiGi Thorne-Gillespie? I’m assuming you’re here for a reason, yeah?”

She gave another delicate shrug of her shoulder. “Bridget O’Malley is part of my coven. She’s worried about you but didn’t have the resources to spare to check on you. Apparently, she’s trying to locate her father.”

“Aye, as I’m trying to locate my girlfriend, who’s with him.”

GiGi’s mouth twisted in a smirk. “Well, I’m surprised your girlfriend left you for Patrick, though heisa good-looking fella. But maybe she prefers someone a little less…broody.”

“She didn’t leave me forhim,” Noah snapped. “And that man is a whole helluva lot broodier than me, he is! She left me to find her brother?—”

Her brother!

Of course!

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