The Witch Way Collection: Volume 1 by Jane Hinchey

Author:Jane Hinchey [Hinchey, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Baywolf Press
Published: 2019-08-03T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

I spotted Gran over by the trestle table that had been moved from the stage to the back wall of the ballroom and made my way over.

“Congratulations.” I kissed her cheek and she winked, her extra-long fake eyelashes brushing her cheek.

“Watch this.” She giggled, her eyes on Delores Lane, who was helping herself to the punch bowl on the far end of the dessert laden table.

“What did you do?” Narrowing my eyes, I watched as Delores sipped her drink. She licked her lips then looked down into her cup suspiciously.

Gran whispered, “Prune juice.”

Trust Gran to spell the fruit punch. “Change it back. Now!”

“I didn’t start it,” Gran complained. “Look at them all twitching out there.” She pointed to the dance floor where people were indeed twitching and scratching. “Hope you didn’t take one of them sweets from the bar.”

I hadn’t, but I had noticed the bowl full of sweets sitting on the bar and thought it odd they were there.

Donna DeGloria took to the stage, mic in hand, shushing the band mid-song.

“Sorry for the interruption, folks, but I see our witches are at it again. If you find yourself under the influence of anything other than alcohol, please make your way to the booth out the back where antidotes are being dispensed. Witches, may I remind you that this is a magic-free event.” She turned off the mic and the band resumed playing.

“See?” Gran grinned. “Happens every year.”

“Well, just quit it, okay?” I mumbled, shaking my head at the witches and their mischief-making ways.

“You’re such a goody-two-shoes, a rule follower.” Gran patted my cheek, taking any sting out of her words, but she wasn’t wrong. Rules were there for a reason, but I couldn’t help the grin that escaped when a young man executed a hell of a dance move, trying to scratch his back and leg at the same time.

Gran handed me a paper plate laden with tasty morsels from the dessert table. I squinted at the selection. “They aren’t spelled, are they?” I asked suspiciously, not putting it past her.

“Nope, cross my heart.” She mimicked crossing her chest. “Oh look, there’s Vernon and Bernice.” Before I could stop her, Gran had bolted, moving as fast as her hooped skirts would allow. I debated following her but decided to hang back and watch. For now.

Bernice Kemp would have to be in her seventies, at least, and was small. Tiny, in fact, and incredibly slim. She looked as if a stiff breeze would blow her away. Bonnie Emerson had been twice Bernice’s size. I couldn’t see Bernice being able to physically restrain her. Unless, of course, it was all magic, which we couldn’t rule out.

I turned my attention to her boyfriend, Vernon Garza. He had a debonair grace about him, a Frank Sinatra vibe with his gray pinstripe suit and hat dipped low over one eye. He took said hat off to greet Gran, bowing low and sweeping his arm, hat in hand, in front of him. He had a full head of gray hair that matched his moustache.

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