Bewitching 1 - The Trouble With Magic by Madelyn Alt

Author:Madelyn Alt [Alt, Madelyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery & Detective, General, Mystery fiction, Witches, Fiction, Women Sleuths, Murder, Investigation
ISBN: 9780425207468
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2006-01-03T05:00:00+00:00

Madelyn Alt - Bewitching 1 - The Trouble With Magic

Chapter Ten

One can always judge the caliber of one's friends by their readiness to sacrifice for you. Not only did Steff cut her breakfast short, but she also accompanied me back to my apartment so I could grab some clothes. In light of what I'd told her last night, I considered this above and beyond the call of duty.

But that was Steff for you.

My apartment was still dark, all the light switches flipped down, even though I knew I had painstakingly turned every last one on before I tore out of there like a complete scaredy-cat. Why I had expected things to revert back to normal overnight, I don't know. Wishful thinking, I suppose.

Steff walked around, antennae up for anything out of the ordinary as I nervously threw my suit on the bed. In the blink of an eye I had yanked on a respectable sweater and dark slacks, dragged a brush through my unruly hair, and tamed it with one of those handy-dandy toothy hair clips (a working girl's best friend). One blink more and I had pulled on a pair of loafers that were only minorly scuffed, then finally hurried back to Steff's side before the bogeyman could get me. I Snagged her by the arm and pulled her toward the door.

“There. You see? Nothing happened,” I told her, relieved to be turning my key in the lock and heading for the flight of cement steps that would carry me back to safety. To normalcy. “It must have been my imagination. There is no other explanation.”

“Uh-huh. That would definitely explain the lights.”

“Maybe I only thought I left them on,” I argued, a little out of breath as we crossed the yard and headed toward the curb. Christine waited there like a faithful hound, a little tired, a little worse for the wear, perhaps even a bit temperamental at times, but there for me when the chips were down. I gave her an affectionate pat on the hood before scrounging in the depths of my purse for my keys.

“We could take my car,” Steff offered too quickly.

“Oh, that's okay. Christine needs to be run regularly or she gets testy.”

“Really, I have a tank full of gas. It wouldn't be any trouble. Really.”

My groping fingers hit paydirt. “Found 'em!” I exclaimed, waving the keys around in triumph.

“Well, if you're sure you're sure…” When I turned to look at her, she shrugged. “I don't think your car likes me, that's all.”

“Don't be silly. She's just a car.”

“Hunh. Don't forget, I've actually read Stephen King.”

But she got in anyway, settling into the worn passenger-side bucket seat without further complaint. While I revved the engine for a few minutes to heat up the oil and prime the pump, so to speak, Steff punched idly at the chrome buttons on the antiquated radio.

“Static. Always static.” She sighed and flopped backward against her seat.

“She might like you better if you didn't always insult her.”

Steff just didn't understand Christine.

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