Page 14 of Boss Witch

After parking in the driveway, Clem jogged up to the house and rang the bell. When nobody responded, she guessed Ethel might be gardening out back. Ethel was a crafty sort of person—­knitting, crochet, furniture DIY projects, a vegetable patch, and goddess knew what else. Clem thought Ethel made jewelry as well and had an online store for it. She also sold various charms, though she called them scented sachets. It amused the older witch to market small blessings to mundanes who then used them to mildly enchant their underwear and scarves.

Muttering, she circled around back and found Ethel puttering around her tomatoes, checking the wire frames and removing weeds. The afternoon sun was still bright as hell, and Ethel had on an over-­the-­top straw gardening hat with humongous silk flowers on the side, oversize gloves along with a flowing purple tunic, black spandex bike shorts, and a pair of yellow rubber boots. Immediately Clem decided that the biggest draw about aging was the freedom to dress like this and not give a damn.

“You’re my hero,” she declared.

Ethel blotted away some sweat with the hem of her top and peeled off her gloves. “That goes without saying. I suppose you need something and that’s why you’re here without calling.”

Pointedly Clem got her phone out and dialed Ethel’s number. The older witch’s cell phone rang inside the house, as she’d known it would. “See, that’s why I didn’t bother. I figured you’d be out here messing around.”

“I’ll give you that one. Let’s go inside and talk. I made some lemonade earlier, and I have some watermelon cut up. Is this a private sort of chat, or can we sit on the porch?”

“Probably better inside,” she said.

The risk of being overheard was low, but since she needed coven history, it was better not to risk a leak. Honestly, most people in St. Claire were so prosaic that witches could talk about anything out in the open, and if questioned, claim it was related to a supernatural TV show they were watching. With all the new streaming services, even international ones, nobody would blink twice at hearing things that once would’ve gotten them put on trial and executed.

Inside the house, it was blessedly cool, thanks to multiple ceiling fans and an old-­school air conditioner. Ethel hadn’t sprung for central air yet, and she coped by moving the portable unit around to whatever room she was using. Right now, it was chilling the front room, which was adjacent to the kitchen. Clem took the icy glass of fresh lemonade and a bowl of watermelon cubes then headed into the living room to wait.

Ethel’s pet parrot greeted her with a squawk. “Tell your fortune?” Percy offered.

Percy was a green Amazon parrot with yellow and blue bands. The bird was like thirty years old, amazing when Clem considered that they belonged to the same peer group.

“Okay,” she said. “Let me have it.”

In response, the bird wolf whistled at her and said, “Stone-­cold fox. Getting lucky!”

Clem blinked. “Is that my actual fortune, or are you hitting on me?”

The parrot danced along his perch bar and made clicking sounds, as if avoiding the question. He was probably good company for Ethel since she lived alone, but it must be freaky when he shouted obscenities in the middle of the night. Funny part was, Ethel had a TikTok channel devoted to her parrot, and she got thousands of hits when Percy went on a rant.

Idon’t even have a TikTok channel.

Soon Ethel joined her, carrying her own bowl of watermelon and a tall, frosty glass of lemonade. She ate a piece of juicy melon with obvious relish. “Tastes like summer,” she said, smacking her lips. “Now then, my young apprentice, what’s the big issue?”

***

Despite the late night, Gavin got up early, glad to be getting out of the fleabag motel.

He traveled light out of necessity, so it didn’t take him long to collect his things and stow them on the back of the Duc. The flat he’d rented was easy to find thanks to his mobile. American homes were so large compared to the ones in the UK, even normal single-­family dwellings. This one was a split-­level, judging by the exterior and number of upper-­story windows—­a white house with black shutters that didn’t close, so far as he could tell. Ruggedly trimmed hedges lined the front walk, offering some privacy when he pulled into the drive. The landscaping did add a sense of separation to his own entrance, and he parked on the cement pad on the right side of the garage. Sturdy wooden stairs behind the parking area led up to a modest deck with a couple of Adirondack chairs and small side table covered in flowering plants. Gavin devoutly hoped he wasn’t expected to take care of the foliage while he was staying here.

The door had a keypad, as promised, and the code he’d been given granted him access. Inside, the flat resembled the pictures enough that he didn’t feel cheated, though the flooring looked like wood in the pictures. Up close, it was a vinyl tile that probably was much easier to maintain and clean, along with throw rugs scattered here and there.

There was a blue futon in the sitting room, placed beside a comfortable-­looking armchair, a small coffee table set in front, facing the compact entertainment center. It looked like a smart TV, with the remote offering buttons for various streaming services. A short user’s guide on the side table gave him a rundown of amenities, including the Wi-­Fi password and where various cleaning supplies were kept. No central air-­con, but he wasn’t used to that anyway. There was a window unit in the bedroom and a ceiling fan in the sitting room. Everything was dark blue, cream, or misty gray, a cool and neutral decor choice.

Gavin continued his exploration.

Calling the cooking space “a galley kitchen” would be kind, as there was a mini fridge, two induction burners, a shallow sink, a microwave, a toaster, and that was about it. An efficiency island separated the living area from the kitchenette, offering a combined work top and eating area. Perfectly fine; it wasn’t like he planned to prepare gourmet meals. There was basic tableware for two settings, and he did locate the kettle, a box of black tea, sweeteners, and powdered cream.Need to do some shopping.That was a first; he couldn’t recall the last time he’d been to a market that wasn’t attached to a petrol station.

The bathroom was behind the bedroom, not ideal for long-­term living, but this wasn’t designed for permanent habitation. Considering the price, everything was much nicer than he expected. Gavin felt quite odd as he unpacked his meager belongings; there was plenty of space in the small wardrobe and tall, slim dresser tucked beside it. In fact, he had drawers to spare when all his things were tucked away.

When was the last time I unpacked anywhere?

His father would be screaming about how he needed to live at a high state of readiness, always prepared for hostile engagement with the enemy. But hell, Gavin was dead tired of living like he was at war. He meant to make the most of this stolen interlude. And he’d try his best not to hurt Clem when he inevitably got called away.

With a careful hand, he touched the linens, a higher thread count than he’d seen in years. The whole flat smelled fresh, meticulously cleaned, and there were little touches that made him think a woman had some input, infusions of clean cotton on freshening sticks. The bathroom had dispensers mounted full of body wash, shampoo, and conditioner, and there were two sets of towels and washcloths. Everything was clean and white, not expensive materials, but efficient and well maintained.

No toiletries needed.

He poked through the kitchen a bit more and found a small fruit and cheese plate prepared in the mini fridge in addition to a six-­pack of bottled water. The owners had included a friendly, handwritten note inviting him to ask if he had any questions or needed any information on local attractions. That gave him an idea.

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