Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 49441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
“If you ever want to take a break, you’re welcome to build a box next to mine,” I said, settling the final ‘locator’ spell for beloved lost items in the box.
“Believe me, sometimes I’m tempted,” she said, but turned to look at her shop that had been passed down from witch to witch for three generations. “But I have a legacy to uphold,” she said, giving me a little wave, her many gemstone rings catching the light, then disappearing inside to try to make some sales.
I was still moving inside of my building when I saw someone walk up to my box, glancing through the selections.
While witches weren’t exactly rare in our society, finding ones who actually sold their magic wasn’t that common. So witches like Sora and myself were always as busy as we wanted to be.
For me, that was very, very not busy.
In fact, I felt kind of exhausted just from re-loading the box.
I was going to treat myself to a long, leisurely afternoon watching of The Scandalous Lives of Witchy Wives, my favorite trashy show, whilst doing some online shopping. Despite having a small mountain of unopened boxes sitting just behind my door, full of items I pretty much forgot all about the second I checked out of the online storefronts.
To be fair, I imagined quite a few of those boxes were simply full of new spell jars and the many ingredients needed to create the spells. Cinnamon, sugar, and roses for beauty spells. Almond oil and orange essential oil for lust spells. Basil, mint, thyme, and cloves for money spells.
More fiscally responsible and motivated witches would save themselves a bunch of money by using their apartment balcony to grow all their own herbs and spices.
Alas, the only thing to be found on my balcony was a giant plastic tub full of water, so the full moon tomorrow night could charge it to use for spellwork.
Ten hours into watching very wealthy witches go on spa days and shopping sprees and planning lavish parties while their exasperated normie husbands shook their heads and sighed over their antics, I decided that the box of single-serving potato chips I’d been munching on all day wasn’t quite cutting it.
I ran my tongue along the roof of my mouth that felt raw from the vinegar speckling some of the chips as I reached for my phone, swiping over to one of my trusty delivery apps, and checking my local cuisine options.
Friday nights meant that the wait time was over an hour, so I placed my order, unlocked my door, grabbed some drinks and one of the new blankets I’d bought—this one with a black cat and crescent moon print—and climbed back on my couch, but switching from reality TV to a new romantic dramedy series.
When the intercom buzzed, I distractedly used my mind to press the button to let the delivery guy in. So far, it was my favorite spell I’d ever created, even if it was more draining than most.
But, hey, it meant I didn’t have to get up off of the couch to let the guy in.
That was a win in my book.
I heard the knock at my door a few moments later, but the show was getting to a really fascinating plot point, so there was no way I was going to drag my butt off of the couch.
“Come in and put it on the counter,” I called.
I heard the door open with the little jingle of a bell that I’d attached to it to keep the ghost of the former landlady from coming into my place, leaving her wandering the halls instead, grumbling about noise and grimacing when unmarried couples went into their apartments together.
She used to like to let herself into my apartment and rant and rave about the mess and about how a young, single lady shouldn’t be living alone. And they definitely shouldn’t have little battery-powered boyfriends in their nightstands.
Dating real-life men is exhausting, Gladys.
I heard footsteps, but when they didn’t retreat, I called out, “I left your tip on the app. Thanks.”
But the bell didn’t jangle.
The delivery guy stayed in place.
Great.
Was this one of those situations where some random dude came across a random woman and decided to take advantage.
Unlucky for him, I kept a little hex close by at all times.
I hope he enjoyed his lifetime of having an infuriatingly itchy crotch.
It was when I folded up to reach for the spell jar just under the couch when I felt it.
The shift in the energy of my apartment.
A chill that shouldn’t have been there.
I’d only ever felt it one other time in my life.
That sensation?
It meant a vampire was in my apartment.
Because I’d just invited him in.
CHAPTER TWO
Nathaniel
Roxanne Caulderone had to be the laziest witch in the tri-state area. If not the entire country.