Witcha Gonna Do? by Avery Flynn

Author:Avery Flynn [Flynn, Avery]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2022-12-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Tilda . . .

Packing to go steal the most valuable spell book in all of Witchingdom isn’t like throwing shit in a bag for a girl’s weekend at the beach. For one, I wasn’t offering up my eternal services as a rooster babysitter to my sister so she’d magically make my travel-sized bottle of SPF four billion into a never-ending supply of sunscreen. For the other, I had to figure out how to sweet-talk my way into bulk orders of juniper berries without Orwell at the alchemists’ club telling everyone I was up to something—or more likely that my family was, and then everyone would be trying to get in touch with my mom to see what was wrong.

The solution, obviously, is to run a contest on WitchyGram—but that doesn’t mean I’m not getting some questionable looks from Eli, Birdie, and Gil as we all sit on the brick patio looking out on Mom’s herb garden under the midnight full moon. Eli is walking through the garden checking out all of the plants my mom has nurtured into an organic who’s who of witchery herbs. Birdie is pouring tea for everyone in between rescheduling her tax-prep appointments so she can take off work for the heist. And Gil? He’s just standing under the patio’s awning, his arms crossed, and his usual surly expression on his face.

I don’t get it. The man either looks at me like he hates me or wants to kiss me or both, and it’s got me more bubbly inside than a cauldron on a night when there’s a full blue moon. His gaze catches mine and my internal meter goes from “he’s a self-righteous jerk even if he’s helping” to “fates alive, how do I get him naked” in 0.3 seconds. It’s awkward but manageable—unless we’re touching. Then it’s like all the attraction short-circuiting my brain gets a shot of nitro—horny, gotta-touch, please-kiss-me nitro.

Even now, without us touching, my cheeks are flushed and my pulse is hammering as I jerk my attention back to the table and the matter at hand.

Yeah, you know, saving your family.

Priorities, Tilda. Priorities.

Birdie pours me a cup of elderberry tea from the porcelain teapot shaped like a black cat. “Are you sure this will work?”

“When it comes to how to get people to react on social media?” I take a sip of the tart, earthy tea and pause for a second to savor it before answering. “It is my job and I am good at it. I can’t do magic, but I’m pretty great at getting things to go viral.”

“So what’s the plan?” Eli asks as he inspects the purple coneflower growing along the edges of the patio, the lavender flowers and purply-brown spiky centers, which my mom would dry out and crumble into the cauldron to increase the power of her spells.

I set down my cup and take out my version of a magic wand—my cell phone. “Well, we can’t exactly buy up all the juniper berries in Wrightsville to take up with us in exchange for the tickets.

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