Westerham Witches and a Venetian Vendetta Dionne Lister (e manga reader .txt) đ
- Author: Dionne Lister
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A shrill scream took an ice pick to the peaceful night.
I started, and my eyelids flung open. Will and I launched out of bed, ready for action. Although, we couldnât exactly run downstairs with no clothes on. Oops. Will beat me to magicking clothes on, but I wasnât far behind. I ran to the window to look into the courtyard.
Two wall sconces threw dim light on the chairs and tables. The light barely reached a far corner of the courtyard, but it was enough to give an outline of two people, one of whom was sobbing and saying, âNo, no, no. Mio Dio, no.â
âWhatâs she saying?â I really needed to learn other languages.
âMy Italian isnât great, but I know that one. âMy god.â Letâs get down there.â
As I turned from the window, someone entered the courtyard, but I didnât have time to see who it was because Will grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the door. I snatched our key off the small table that sat against the wall. I grinned, proud of myself. How often did I remember to do practical things in an emergency⊠well, okay, even when it wasnât an emergency, I probably wouldâve forgotten the key.
Will opened the door and dropped my hand, likely so we could run properly. We sprinted the whole way along the hall and downstairs, and I only just avoided slipping on the steep treads. I slowed and put up a return to sender, readying to grab my magic for anything. At the bottom of the stairs, we bolted to the right and through the door weâd gone in earlier that day. We burst into the courtyard, and Willâs magic tingled my scalp. A ball of light appeared above one of the table umbrellas, illuminating the whole space.
âGood thinking, ninety-nine.â
âWouldnât I be Maxwell Smart? Iâm the man, in case you hadnât noticed.â
I smirked. âOh, Iâve noticed. Anyway, itâs just a saying.â The end of the conversation and weâd reached the people in the corner. Of course, Angelica, Imani, and my mother were already there. They mustâve been who I glimpsed as I was leaving. My mother had her arm around a woman⊠the same woman who had argued with that guy this afternoon. The woman was crying and gesturing to a glass statue. Huh? That hadnât been there earlier today. Had it been cracked during delivery and sheâd only just figured it out?
I looked past her and my mother at Imani and Angelica, who were giving the statue the once over. It was a life-size glass sculpture of a man. The head was blue, which faded into green, then yellow, then the legs were cream. For glass, the detail was incredible. I cocked my head to the side. It looked familiar. Was it stolen? Although why that lady would be so upset about it, I had no idea. Maybe she was worried about being accused of taking it?
Angelica finished inspecting the sculpture and spoke to the woman in Italian. After a bit of back and forth, Angelica nodded. She turned to Imani. âRecord those three magic signatures and send them through to James. Weâll see if theyâre on the system.â
âCan you access international records?â I asked. For some stupid reason, I figured they usually accessed information on British people, but, of course, all the agencies would file their information into the PIB database, giving access to Paris, New York, Rome, and all the places that had bureaus. Embarrassment about my stupidity squashed the pride of remembering the keys. One cancelled out the other. Oh well.
Imani looked at me and raised her brow. âLily, how long have you been working with us? Iâm pretty sure you already know the answer to that.â
I nodded and pressed my lips together. âMmhmm. Yes. Yes, I do. Forget I said anything. Is it solid glass? It looks heavy.â It wouldâve taken some serious magic to move it here.
I walked past the woman and Angelica and placed my hand on the statueâs shoulder. I loved the smooth coolness of glass. I wrinkled my forehead. âOh. Is it warm because the weatherâs warm?â
Angelica donned her poker face. Oh dear. Why did she have to do that? Was the holiday over already? âItâs warm because the man underneath it hasnât been dead for very long.â
I snatched my hand back, my heart racing, and stared at the statue. âThereâs a real man under here?â Why did murder have to find us wherever we went?
âYes, sort of. Someone turned him to glass, although his internal organs would still be there. His skin and hair, all the externals, have been turned to glass.â
Will came to stand next to me. He scrutinised the face. âThis is the man we saw this morning after your bird altercation.â
My mouth dropped open. âIt is too!â I didnât want to cast aspersions, but I turned and looked at the grieving woman, assessing her reaction. She did look pretty upset. A tissue was clutched in her fist, and her red eyes were still leaking tears. I put my hand on my stomach. Why was I feeling queasy? Maybe Iâd had enough of crime and murder to last me forever. This was supposed to be time to escape, yet trouble always found us.
Angelica looked at Will. âIâll need to talk to both of you, but before I do, I want to check in with the local PIB. Weâve got two agents located in Trieste, a port city a couple of hours away. I donât want to lead this investigation because a, weâre on holiday and b, I donât want Chad getting involved and messing anything up. I donât want to get the locals offside. Best let them lead this one. We can help if required.â
Will and I shared a look of disbelief. Angelica taking a back seat? That was new. I
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