The Christmas Witch by Carla Caruso

Author:Carla Caruso
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Escape Publishing
Published: 2019-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

‘Nonna, I have a question for you.’ Mina glanced down at her grandma, busily rearranging pots in her front yard that Sunday morning.

Her nonna was using the rare bout of weekend sunshine to stage a plant sale, and Mina had lent a hand … even though she’d advertised the sale on SilverTrade. Things were currently quiet. Her mother was in her studio painting like a madwoman.

‘Si?’ her nonna replied, moving a soon-to-be-flowering frangipani plant to the front of her stand.

Mina rubbed a mark on the wooden tabletop. ‘I was just wondering … have you ever had a spell go wrong? I mean, really, really wrong? Not just, you know, garnishing someone’s pizza with hair or anything like that.’

‘A spell go wrong?’ her nonna loudly repeated just as a brunette, carrying a baby in a sling, wandered in the gate.

Mina waved like a loony at the woman. ‘Feel free to browse or ask us any questions.’

Nodding awkwardly, the brunette headed over to check out the potted plants and cuttings lined up on the grass. A lawnmower started up in the distance.

Nonna joined Mina behind the stand, lowering her voice. ‘There was one time when I turned a cousin’s face olive-green because he was behaving like a pig. He’d been cheating on his girlfriend. But I was young and couldn’t work out how to reverse the spell. So, it took a few days for his skin to fade. He had to miss an important job interview. He always said he could have ended up a banker instead of a butcher, if it weren’t for me.’

‘Old Alfonso?’ Mina whispered back. ‘A banker? As if. He would have deserved everything he got.’ The old guy, with his comb-over, remained a chauvinist nitwit.

A blonde lady meandered down the drive next and crouched beside a ponytail palm with horsehair-like leaves. Mina returned her focus to her nonna. ‘And nothing worse than that has ever happened? Nothing that’s severely impacted another?’

‘No,’ Nonna Rosetta insisted. ‘Why do you ask?’

Mina quickly looked away. ‘Just curious. I mean, I’m not as experienced as you in … the craft, so sometimes it worries me. You know, thinking about what could, potentially, go wrong. And maybe this time of year just heightens those feelings.’

Her nonna patted her arm. ‘So long as you have good intentions, you’ll be fine.’

Mina ducked her head. ‘Ta.’

The sound of gravel being pulverised underfoot made her look up again. A burly man, with a shaved head and side rattail, was marching up the drive. He walked with out-turned legs, reminiscent of Queen Anne furniture, and wore a bulky motorcycle jacket. He didn’t look like a local. Though, of course, brawny men could like flowers …

He paused at the stand, pushing wraparound shades up on his forehead. A teardrop tattoo glared beneath his right eye. Did that mean he’d once murdered someone, or just that he’d had a long stint in jail? He peered past Mina’s shoulder as though mentally casing the joint, taking advantage of the open house.

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