Witch Wish Way by Addison Creek

Author:Addison Creek [Creek, Addison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-08-07T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

No on could figure out what to say after that, and in the silence my half-awake mind wandered off to worry about the dark ghosts again.

We hadn’t seen the last of that particular threat, I was sure of it, so I needed to figure out how to deal with them. One thing I wondered was what they’d been doing since Aunt Harriet left. I had expected them to attack the farmhouse immediately, but they hadn’t showed up on the property at all. Now, some random evening before the start of the fair, they had appeared and chased us all over the Maine woods.

I supposed my first mistake was trying to apply logic to dark ghosts. But somehow they’d known we’d be in the woods that evening, and the question was, how?

I had to save that question for later, though, because Deacon and Jasper were still sitting on my porch and none of us had even had breakfast yet.

Our guests didn’t stay much longer, though. Once Jasper had confirmed that I hadn’t been lost in the woods, he needed to get going. I concluded that yes, he was worried about my safety, but no, he hadn’t forgiven me–yet–for being entirely honest with him about the little witch business.

We all said our goodbyes, promising to meet up at the fair, and we three roommates made our way to the kitchen to get the day going properly.

“That was nice of them to come check on us,” said Charlie. “Paws is going to be furious about his porch this evening, though.”

“He’s always up in arms about something,” said Greer. “Which reminds me, how do you think Honolulu is settling in here?”

“I think she’s had a shock, so it’s hard, but she probably won’t be here for long anyway,” I said. “I just hope she manages to tell us something about Tabitha’s killer before she goes.”

“Hopefully the police will make some progress on that too,” said Charlie. “Detective Cutter is determined, given that she was a pillar of the fair and all.”

“It’s strange that it took until fair week to discover that she died,” I mused, just now realizing the coincidence.

We settled into the kitchen, each of us going through our morning routines. Charlie’s was the most rigid, while Greer’s was simple: coffee . . . especially if she’d been forced to get up before noon. I usually wandered around a bit, plucking at things and checking the newspaper headlines.

While Greer sat in the nook and stared blearily out the window, I started the coffee brewing. On days when we couldn’t make it to the Daily Brew we drank homemade fare. It wasn’t as good, but it would have to do for today.

The reporter in our midst always went for the Gazette first to see where her articles had ended up in the layout. I usually took a section of the Gazette and Greer started with the Chronicle.

The morning was pleasant. Sunlight was gushing through the windows and the sounds of coffee steeping and newsprint crinkling filled the cozy kitchen.

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