Page 42 of Boss Witch

With Danica gone, she was working from open to close. It was tough to make repair calls because that meant Clem had to shut down the shop to do it, and she hated hanging that BACK BY whenever sign because she might miss business while she was gone. Still, some appliances couldn’t be hauled in easily, so she had no choice but to head over to someone’s house to check out their fridge or maybe a washer-­dryer. Sometimes there were perverts who just wanted an excuse to get her in the house.

Eventually, Ethel returned to the parlor with two tall glasses that glistened with condensation. Impossible not to think of Gavin, who would doubtless prefer his served hot. She sipped at the drink and sighed as Ethel settled in the comfy, overstuffed chair across from her.

“You’ve encountered a snag in your flawless plan?” Sarcasm that thick could’ve been cut with a knife and served on fancy cake plates.

Clem aimed a filthy look at Ethel, who didn’t even flinch. Percy, on the other hand, ran up and down his perch, shouting curses. Which was pretty much how Clem felt too.

“I didn’t have a plan,” she admitted. “Not really. Other than trying to get his mind off witches in general and locked onto me.”

“Now you’re hoist by your own petard,” Ethel said. It wasn’t a question, and she let out a chuckle. “Always wanted to say that, so thank you. I’m ticking it right off the bucket list.”

“You don’t have a bucket list, you’ll live to be a thousand.”

Suddenly somber, Ethel shook her head. “I would never. The cost of immortality is too high, my dear.”

For the second time that day, Clem found herself speechless. The older witch certainly knew the most among anyone in their coven, and she liked to allude to certain secrets, but this was the first Clem had heard about any spell for immortality. Like the story about the three longshoremen and the bottle of Scotch, she was ever so tempted to be distracted by it. This time she failed her saving throw.

I’ll kick myself later if I don’t ask.

“Are you serious?” She wanted to know.

“As a late tax return. There are reasons why vampirism is tied to witchcraft in the old stories. They say witches created the first of the night children, right? But it would be more accurate to report that witchesbecamethe first night children. Through old magic, exceedingly difficult, exceptionally rare, and born of blood.”

“Damn,” Clem said. Then she narrowed her eyes, half waiting for thegotcha. “Is this where you admit you’re fucking with me?”

Ethel shook her head, serenely drinking her tea. “It’s up to you whether you believe me. But this much more I will say, the night children are part of why the witch hunters persecute us.”

That was a lot to take in, dropped on her suddenly. “Witch hunters blame us because ancient witches figured out how to unlock immortality via drinking human blood?”

“That’s not the whole story,” Ethel said, “but it’s one aspect. The order keeps its own secrets, and these days, they pretend they have a holy calling.”

“Gavin is certainly not celibate,” Clem muttered, still reeling from the prior revelation.

Vampires are real. They’re really old witches.

That might blow out the back of her head if she thought about it for too long. On some level, it shouldn’t be that shocking—­she was a witch after all—­but this was how she imagined a mundane would feel if they accidentally learned that magic and witches were real—­shocked, awed, and mildly overwhelmed.

“I’ll refrain from asking for the steamy details. Let’s get back to your issue. You said you’ve made a terrible mistake, and then I derailed you. Sorry about that.”

Clem let out a shuddering breath. It was early evening, just past moonrise, and she gazed out at the night sky, stars slowly shimmering into sight, with the small amount of light pollution St. Claire offered.

“You were right, more or less. I had too much pride when I started this because I’d never met anyone who…” What were even the right words?

“Could take your breath away? Make you forget everything except—­”

“Yes. That. All of that. I’m talking to you about it instead of the rest of the coven because I can’t stand the teasing. It’s too fresh. You’re usually a bit more measured even with mockery.”

Ethel gave a crooked smile. “Thanks?”

“You are so welcome,” Percy shouted. Then he added, “Who’s a pretty bird?”

“I’m guessing that’s rhetorical,” Clem said dryly.

“Are you here for sympathy or advice? I can offer both.”

Clem sat forward in her chair, setting down the iced tea. “Then I’ll take both. I need some guidance because I’m over my head, and you’re the one I trust the most.”

The other witch laughed softly. “Are you flattering me on purpose? Never mind if you are. I’ll take it. First I need to ask you something.”

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