Page 27 of His Whispered Witch

Penn perked up. How much was the cat worth if that’s what they spent on the rug? “Need any help with the animal?”

Tori gave her a tight smile. “Cat’s long gone, sorry. They rented out the place over the summer. I told them not to, but they spouted some bullshit about investments.”

Penn sagged. “They should have just sold the rug.”

“Right?” Tori said with a grin.

“Just use a Lift Me Up, dear,” Niamh said, waving vaguely toward the pantry. “The potion won’t know it’s cleaning up burned money.”

“What?” Penn asked.

Niamh turned to look at her and blinked twice. “I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase, dear? The rich with money to burn?”

“I have…”

“So what is all that taradiddle but burned money?”

Tori grinned. “I mean, she’s not wrong.”

“If that’s what you think, how do you do what you do, helping them?” Annie asked as she flipped her dough into a loaf pan.

Tori shrugged. “They can’t burnallof it.”

She ducked into the pantry and immediately came out with a bottle labeled with an arrow pointing toward the stopper.

“Just out of curiosity, Niamh, what does the one with the arrow pointing down do?” Tori asked as she headed toward the door.

“Hmm? Oh, it’s dye. Pick your color.”

“Right.” She tossed and caught the bottle, which seemed remarkably cavalier to Penn, and strode out of the room.

“So, Penny, what brings you to the belly of the beast?” Siobhan asked as she hauled fermented dough from the huge cauldron to the counter with a flick of her wrist. Her talent was telekinesis, too.

“Careful!” Niamh said as she pushed at the jiggling blob. It looked like a horrible monster about to eat the other blobs on the counter.

“I’m curious about wolves?”

“Why now?” Siobhan asked abruptly. “What have you seen?”

“Nothing here. It’s just, when we were in Leadville for the race, Annie said we saw?—”

Annie pivoted, her eyes huge in her head. Her pale skin turned beet red, and Penn choked. “Mightsee. Possibly see but didn’t actually see a werewolf.”

“You didn’t?” Niamh asked with unexpected heat. They were little old ladies, yes, but they were also witches in charge of a fractured coven and major business owners in the town. They were the opposite of gullible.

“We didn’t!” Annie said as loudly as she could, still completely flushed.

“I’ve never seen one before in my life, including in Leadville,” Penn said, aware she sounded less believable with every word, but she didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret. “It’s just that Annie said you guys are complete experts on shifters. Like you have a whole collection on them? And I was just curious about it. That’s it. I thought I would ask you more.”

Penn was expecting condemnation and jumped when Siobhan clapped her hands together with a delighted smile. “Are you joining in the fight?”

Penn frowned. “What fight?”

“There’s no fight,” Niamh contradicted from the stove. “The preparation for the fight.”

Niamh leapt toward Penn, and the ladle clattered into the cauldron. She groaned and jumped back toward it.

Penn flinched when she felt a hand on her forearm. She hadn’t seen Siobhan move. “See, witches and shifters are peaceful, right? They have their territory, and we have ours.”

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