Page 17 of Wicked Love
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Lavinia turned to me, and her nose wrinkled. “What in the name of Hecate have you been doing?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You smell like you got hit by a skunk,” she said, covering her nose.
“What?” I asked. I’d just done a cleaning spell. I sniffed at myself. “I don’t smell it.”
“Well, it’s there. Desiree!” She gestured at one of the witches near us.
Desiree, an older woman with strawberry blonde hair, came over. She smiled, and then her nose wrinkled.
I’ll give her credit. She kept the smile on her face.
“What do you smell?” Lavinia asked.
“Well, it smells like, well…” Desiree hesitated, obviously not wanting to be rude.
“Be honest,” Lavinia said.
“Skunk,” Desiree said.
Lavinia turned to me, her eyebrows raised. “I wasn’t lying. Thank you, Desiree,” she said to the other witch.
Desiree smiled and moved away.
“What were you doing?” Lavinia asked.
“I did a cleaning spell before I came in.”
“Why?”
I wasn’t telling her what had happened. No way in hell. “I went to a bar,” I said.
She nodded. “Did you forget how to do a cleaning spell?”
“No,” I grumbled.
She eyed me, and then sighed. “All right. Hit me with it.”
“What?”
“Hit me with the spell you used.”
“Why?”
“Am I your boss, or am I your boss?”
“You are, but that doesn’t tell me why—”
“Jasper Thibodeaux, just do it!” Her voice rose.
“All right, all right.” I cast a cleaning spell for her.
Nothing happened, and then the smell hit me. “Whoa,” I said.
“Skunk?” Lavinia asked.
