Witch on Ice by Cat Larson

Author:Cat Larson [Larson, Cat]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Enchanted Frog Books
Published: 2019-09-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

“It was horrible,” I said, knocking back a hearty chug of my virgin mango margarita. “Positively dreadful.”

“You poor thing.” Sage touched my hand. “I can’t even imagine. I know she is—was—an awful person, but for you to have to find her that way…”

“I can’t get the image out of my mind. It kept popping in all night.”

So much so that I ended up sleeping through Violet’s clock radio alarm, ruining my plans to go to the footbridge early. Not that I would’ve had access to it anyway if the area was taped off.

“If you would’ve seen her,” I added. “Her face looked like one of your giant blueberries.” I gestured to the bag on the table filled with juicy berries. “Thanks for bringing them, by the way.” I held up the charger. “And this.” It was thoughtful of her to remember that I’d asked for one. Maybe if I tried charging up my phone in the normal way, it’d stop the weird calls.

“Of course. Anytime.”

I opened the bag and pulled out some blueberries. They were gigantic, freaks of nature. I pointed behind her. “Is that our server?” When she turned her head, I slipped a few into my purse.

“Yep. Should I wave him over?”

“Yes, please. We could use some more chips.” Sage and I were at Caliente, where she’d met me for lunch during her study break. We were stuffing ourselves with guacamole and sugar, mine in the form of syrupy margaritas and hers as multiple bottles of fizzy soda.

I folded up the bag. “How do you grow these things so big anyway? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s easy. I just ask them to grow big,” she answered like it was the most logical thing in the world.

“Um, okay.” Time for another drink. When the waiter approached our table, I ordered a second margarita to go with the chips, passionfruit this time. “And make it a double,” I called out.

Sage laughed. “You do know virgin means without alcohol, right?”

“Doesn’t hurt to pretend.” As tempting as it was to anesthetize my current reality, I had to keep my wits about me.

“Are you making muffins or something?”

“Muffins?” I mumbled through a mouthful of salt-laden tortilla crumbs.

“With the blueberries. You asked for more after I just brought over a large bag yesterday.”

I shook the remaining morsels from the bottom of the basket into my hand, then popped them into my mouth. That earned me a funny look. “What?” I asked.

“Maybe we should tell him to just leave the bag.”

“Bite your tongue; there is no bag. You know they make them fresh here. That’s why they’re so delicious.”

“Then we could wheel you into the kitchen and set you up next to the deep fryer. Save him a trip. Or ten.”

“Ha-ha.” I nodded toward her third soda, which likely meant it was her sixth of the day. “You have some unhealthy habits of your own, missy.” I thought I liked sweets, but back in the day, Sage could pound the soda like nobody’s business, and it appeared nothing had changed.

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