Page 47 of Extra Witchy

Chapter 16

It amused Leanne knowing how much Dan Rutherford would scream if he knew she was literally using magic against him.

He was the kind of man who said “females” when he was alone with his buddies and slapped women on the ass then pretended he hadn’t known it was offensive. And she couldn’t manipulate the votes; that qualified as mind control, and even the most powerful neuromancer couldn’t manage it. At best, she could nudge someone in a direction they were already inclined toward. It would probably surprise Trev to realize the reason he saw her as the most beautiful and glamorous woman in the world was because he was already disposed to think so. Her glamour spells didn’t work half as well on someone who disliked her profoundly.

Talk about the ultimate “beauty is in the eye of the beholder” test.

It was also why it had been impossible to force Margie’s ex to pay child support, no matter what spells they worked. So ironic—technology waswayeasier to influence than people.

As expected, Clem’s spell had worked like a charm. Trev had been so surprised and delighted when she mentioned that multiple “book club” friends wanted his help with their accounts as well. Frankly, he was doing a magnificent job with Leanne’s professional socials. She’d peeked a few times in the past week, and she couldn’t do better herself. He had an eye for nuance, and he was relentlessly charming when responding to constituents. People might believe it was impossible to turn patience and an inherently kind nature into a career, but look at him go.

Her favorite part of this whole viral deal was the tribute videos. A whole slew of people praising their partners had cropped up online, and it wasn’t limited to wives and husbands either. There were videos of people saying, “If you want your house rewired, you want my partner,” and “If you need someone to build the best treehouse ever, you want my spouse,” and she was so here for it. Because it made her campaign truly part of the community, and people were finding each other, and…

Okay, I’m definitely not crying. I wanted wholesome, and he’s giving 120 percent.

Tonight, she had a speaking engagement, and she wanted Trev there, but he’d left the campaign office early. He didn’t say where he was headed, and she didn’t want to be one ofthosepartners, the kind who had to know everything about every minute. In fact, she wasn’t even sure if she had any rights at all. Since their wedding night, they slept in the same bed, but he seldom made any moves on her. Despite his amicable exterior, her husband was hard to read. He smiled a lot, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and he rarely volunteered his thoughts.

With effort, she squared her shoulders and offered her loyal volunteers a reassuring smile. The most shocking development? Hazel Jeffords was among her staunchest supporters. Leanne had heard through the grapevine that the old woman had thrown a handful of chip and dip samples at Dan Rutherford, after she heard him shit-talking Leanne in the local supermarket. Though she’d once been opposed to the woman’s intrusion on coven meetings, she now stood firmly in favor of Hazel dropping by anytime she wished.

What would that be like? If we could really invite mundanes to join our coven, let them see how our magic works, and treat them as true siblings?Wistfully, she decided the world wasn’t quite ready for that step.But one day, maybe. Hopefully in my lifetime…

“Thank you,” she said warmly. “I appreciate all of you so much.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Gladys replied with a wink. “Break a leg, dear child.”

It took a woman of a certain age to call someone who was nudging forty a “child,” but Leanne didn’t argue. She merely left the others to lock up and headed downstairs. When she stepped out the back and passed through the alley toward the street, she spotted Dan Rutherford standing with his chief aide some distance away. They were speaking in low voices, and she glanced around, making sure she had cover from the buildings on either side, then she whispered a spell that would turn the wind in her favor, allowing her to listen in. Next, she pulled out her phone, which gave her a plausible excuse to linger, too far for most people to eavesdrop.

“…find something,” Rutherford was saying.

“She’s been unfortunately candid about her private life. Everyone in town knows that she’s been married twice, but nobody seems to care.”

“I refuse to believe that woman has no skeletons in her closet. I want all her dirty laundry, all of it! Have you seen the numbers? This is the last time I can run, and I refuse to have my term cut short by that little bitch.”

“Whatdid you just say?” Suddenly, Hazel Jeffords was on the scene, upending the entire contents of her travel mug on Rutherford’s head.

Guess the chips-and-dip incident offered a clue that Hazel’s not having it.

“Today is not the day,” Hazel was saying, both hands on her round hips. “How dare you talk about Leanne that way?”

What would it be like if I had a mom like Hazel?Junie wasn’t the scrappy type; she would never react like Hazel. And while fighting might not solve anything—

Just then, her phone pinged with a message from Mrs. Carmenian.Normally I wouldn’t want you to see this because it might hurt you, but I suspect you can make use of this clip. Do as you see fit.

When she played the video, it was the incident she’d just witnessed—Dan Rutherford, running his mouth then getting schooled by Hazel. Right now, Leanne couldn’t make a decision regarding the dispersal of the footage. She had somewhere to be. So she wheeled and cut through the alley, avoiding the main street, and took the long way to her car.

If it looks like I need a boost later, I might circulate it. We’ll see.

She drove slowly, reflecting on the clash between her people and Dan Rutherford.Get your head in the game. Don’t let him rattle you.

This particular talk was small, a gathering of local women at the public library, but there were no unimportant moments of connection. She truly believed that. Twenty people or forty or a hundred, she’d speak sincerely every time. On the way, she rehearsed her speech until the words blurred, probably not the desired result.

When she hopped out of the car, she spotted Trev propped against the faded brick of the St. Claire Public Library, legs crossed at the ankles like he had all the time in the world. He had on faded jeans, a T-shirt that had been washed so often that the logo was faded beyond recognition, and a gray zip hoodie. Somehow, just seeing his face calmed her rioting nerves, and she rushed toward him. Before she even got there, he opened his arms and drew her in, reassuring and warm and—

Home. He smells like home.Trev was laundry detergent and lemony dish soap with just a whisper of grapefruit bodywash. Nothing glamorous, but so familiar and precious.

Have I ever been with anyone long enough before to be comforted by their smell?The answer terrified her.

He misread the tremor that ran through her. “Breathe, Butterfly. The people who signed up are interested in what you have to say.”

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