No Guts, No Fury (Federal Bureau of Magic Cozy Mystery Book 3) by Annabel Chase

Author:Annabel Chase [Chase, Annabel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Red Palm Press LLC
Published: 2019-03-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Aunt Thora and I arrived back at the house to the sound of my mother and grandmother arguing.

“You’d better knock it off,” Grandma said. “I may not be a vengeance demon, but I know more than my share of revenge tactics.”

My mother bristled. “For the last time, stop being angry with me over something that happened in a dream. I can’t control what you dream about it.”

Grandma peered at her closely. “Can’t you, though?”

“There are plenty of dream demons who can, but you know perfectly well that I’m a witch like you.”

“You sure are,” I mumbled.

Grandma shifted her attention to me. Oops. Should’ve stayed quiet.

“When is that barn going to be finished?” Grandma asked. “Your boyfriend is taking an awfully long time.”

“It’s a lot of work,” I said. “And you know he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Why not? He’s up your alley,” Grandma said. “Human. Dull as dishwater. Not an evil bone in his body.”

“Not evil at all,” my mother said with a vacant smile. “Some very nice bones, in fact. Very nice.”

“He’s not going to bone you with any of his bones, so you may as well move on,” Grandma snapped.

My mother looked appalled. “Why would you say such a thing? If we’re two consenting adults, what’s the harm?”

“He’s a carpenter for the barn, not a plumber for your pipes,” Grandma said.

I desperately wanted to perform a deaf spell on myself right now. “Can we stop talking about this? John isn’t interested in you, Mom. He just wants to focus on the work.”

“Only because you spoiled him for me,” my mother muttered.

“It was one date,” I said. “And we both agreed that we liked each other as friends.”

“Can we talk about Manfred Rice?” Aunt Thora asked loudly. She filled the kettle and slammed it on the stovetop with such force that we all flinched.

“Who’s that?” my mother asked.

Aunt Thora spun around to face us. “The man who died today,” she replied. “Manfred Rice. He fell from the top of the lighthouse.”

“Did you know him?” my mother asked.

“No, but I saw him fall,” Aunt Thora said. “It was terrible.” She paused. “I think it had something to do with the fog.”

“You might be right,” Grandma said. “Weird things have happened since the fog rolled in. I think it must be supernatural because even my sensible granddaughter’s been affected. She thought it was a good idea to dig up my private property.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to deter myself from responding.

“I’ve seen weird things, too,” my mother said. “Two women were hitting each other with their handbags over a parking spot. Usually, moments like that warm my cold, dead heart, but they both had children in the car watching the whole unpleasant scene unfold.”

I eyed her suspiciously. “Since when do you draw the line at children?”

My mother ignored me.

“Would anyone else like tea?” Aunt Thora asked.

“Which kind?” Grandma walked over to investigate. “I didn’t like that hibiscus you used yesterday. It tasted like sweaty armpits.”

I cringed. “Thanks for that.”

“I won’t brew the hibiscus,” Aunt Thora promised.

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