What Witches Want: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Mystery (Witching Hour Book 7) by Christine Zane Thomas

Author:Christine Zane Thomas [Thomas, Christine Zane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-04-03T16:00:00+00:00

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THE COLD CASEFILES OF SHERIFF MARSTERS AND MR. WOLF

OTHER DAVE

“She knows. I could see it in her eyes.”

And?

“And she didn’t say a word. Why?” In the rearview mirror, dark brown eyes glared back at me.

If I had to guess, Dave thought, it’s cause Constance will deal with this in her way.

“How’s that?”

I threw the SUV into motion, sending it careening backwards, but stopping it before it hit the dumpster in the gravel parking lot of Bewitched Books.

After a few days, I was getting the hang of it. It was almost natural. Like riding a bike—except I’d never done that either.

Instead, the phrase had bubbled up into my subconscious along with Dave’s infernal thoughts.

Magic, he thought. She turns to magic at times like this.

“Not good,” I said, glancing in the mirror before whipping the SUV into the street. It barreled over a curb. I overcorrected and sent it into the vacant other lane. Finally, I straightened it out and stepped on the gas.

Not good for you, maybe.

Considering it was magic that did the switcheroo on us, I thought it might be just as easy for it to swap us back.

I scoured Dave’s mind for answers, but he seemed to have a limited knowledge of magic.

He knew about potions. The one he’d accidentally taken was called daylight. There wasn’t a name for its counter, which we’d also taken. And according to his mind, there was no such thing as a counter to the counter-potion.

It wasn’t the potion that did this to us, Dave thought. At least I don’t think so. Something else happened. Something else went wrong.

“What about spells?” I asked.

What about them?

“If Constance finds a spell, it would, so to speak, spell trouble for me.”

That is the idea.

Not good. I wasn’t ready to give this up… not yet.

Maybe not ever.

I wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

You said that wasn’t a threat.

“It’s a turn of phrase,” I said. “I’m not going to fight her.”

Then what are you going to do?

“The opposite,” I said. “Besides. I like my chances. Did you see her back there at the store? She’s as in control of her magic as you are of your body right now.”

A jolt of stinging pain shot down my spine, nearly causing me to lose control of the vehicle.

“What was that?”

A warning. It’s only a matter of time before I do get control.

“You nearly killed us.”

I did not. You’re going fifteen miles-per-hour… in a forty-five.

“I’m going with the speed of traffic.”

You’re in a cop car. They’re afraid to pass you. Speed up. Where are you going, anyway? And what do you mean by the opposite? What’s your plan with Constance?

“I’m chasing down a lead,” I said, using some detective jargon found in the recesses of Dave’s mind, in an old episode of Law and Order.

And you’re not going to tell me what it is?

“I’ll let you know if I need you.”

And with Constance?

“I already told you. I’m not going to fight her. I’m going to do what you do. I’m going to love her.

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