How to Stone a Crow (Witch Like a Boss Book 2) Willow Mason (inspiring books for teens .txt) 📖

The bond between a witch and their familiar was one of the strongest relationships on the planet. If Annalisa went off on a jaunt for a few hours, my anxiety levels crept up until she came home safely, and vice versa.

At least, I hoped vice versa.

Even for those witches who built an intimate family unit, the strong bond held true. Violet’s heart must be tearing out of her chest every day.

No wonder Paisley acted up. I’d be devastated.

“Do you have any prospects for rebonding?”

Genevieve’s voice was grim. “We’re looking but so far there’s nothing. She’s been hanging out with the other cast-offs, but I feel she’ll do better with a stable home to live in. Spoil her, won’t you?” The supreme’s voice cracked, and the sound muffled for a minute before she came back on the line. “If you need a bit of extra cash—”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine on that account.” I winced as the instant negation poured out of my mouth, but how much could a cat cost?

“If you say so, but don’t hesitate to reach out. Violet and her husband are more than willing to foot any bills.”

I was about to go when I remembered Paisley’s comments. “What’s this about an exorcism on a tree in town?”

The supreme laughed gaily. “What a load of old mumbo-jumbo. Half of Briarton got behind the movement, certain something malevolent had taken hold.”

“And…?”

“While everyone else was busy trying to ‘exorcise’ an evil spirit, I had Melvin from the council parks unit evict the bad-tempered possum who’d taken up residence in the hollow trunk. He’s now rehoused in the parklands outside Briarton and can throw anything he likes at the hunters who try to pick him off.”

My smile disappeared as I disconnected the call, and I took a moment to let the sadness flow through my body. Poor Paisley. Poor Violet. Poor me.

Chapter Four

I put my ear to the connecting door, then retreated a few steps, tapping my foot with impatience.

“That won’t get you anywhere,” Patrick said, twisting the screen on his remote camera around to face me. “And there’s nothing to see yet, anyway.”

We’d installed a small camera in each corner of Pru’s dining room, plus extras in the centrepiece, facing out in each direction. Patrick flicked through all the differing views, none of them showing anything of interest.

Pru sat at the head of the table, back stiff as an ironing board. She’d downed a couple of coffees while we’d set up. I wasn’t a doctor but for someone who appeared so highly strung, perhaps loading up on the caffeine wasn’t the greatest plan.

“Will this even pick up a ghost?”

“Poltergeist, and we won’t know until he turns up.” Patrick shrugged but I could see the excitement creeping around the edges of his nonchalant façade. “If we do, it could go down in the history books.”

“You’d better not be suggesting our client’s private footage would be submitted anywhere other than our secure files.”

“Oh.” His eyes widened a little, then he tipped his head forward, deftly hiding his expression. “No, of course not. I just meant…”

“Hm.” I wandered back to the door and placed my ear against it, though I could see on the screen that Pru still sat waiting, frozen in an uptight bundle of fear.

“Showtime,” Patrick whispered as one of his machines began ticking. “Someone’s home.”

My stomach tried to launch itself up the back of my throat for safekeeping. When I swallowed, I could hear a loud click from the dry walls of my oesophagus.

On the screen, Pru stood and reached for the pot of coffee in front of her. Surely not another cup! But she poured it into the mug of her opposite place setting. “What do you have planned for today?”

“Good one. You know my job interview’s today.” A long sigh followed, and the cup moved slightly.

“Did you see that.” Patrick jabbed his finger at the screen. “That’s proof positive there’s something in the room other than Pru.”

“Proof has a pretty low bar in your profession, doesn’t it?” I asked, then flapped a hand at him for silence when Pru’s visitor began speaking again.

“I just hope they took the time to read my proposal thoroughly. If I start going into the details and they’re not familiar with the concepts, I’ll come off like a conceited jerk.”

“They’ll have read it,” Pru said, reaching out a hand to stroke nothing. “Didn’t you tell me just yesterday that Raymond praised you for the outstanding font work?”

Her companion chuckled, and I turned the door handle, trying to ease it open. Not being able to see Andrew made my brain want to crawl. I needed to watch the man’s expression as he spoke. Nothing about him sounded threatening enough to warrant Pru’s distress from the day before.

“Can you hear him?”

I nodded to Patrick, trying to ignore the disappointment that flooded his features. Having only recently come into my full witch powers, I understood. I’d been locked out of our secret paranormal society for a long time; stuck on the outside looking in.

“I’ll just take a peep,” I whispered, checking the cameras to make sure my voice hadn’t registered with Pru. Her expression didn’t alter—a combination of horrified anticipation and soppy movie-screen love.

“Perhaps I should skip breakfast,” Andrew said as I swung the door gently ajar. He sat at the end of the table, looking every bit like he should register on a CCTV camera. When he poked at a slice of toast with his knife, Patrick shivered with joy.

The poltergeist didn’t look scary. The cliff notes to a hundred horror movies ran through my head, finding no match.

My sleeve brushed against the door, drawing Pru’s wide-eyed attention. I nodded, and she exhaled a slow breath.

“Do you remember what you told me yesterday?”

Andrew tilted his head, a nervous smile playing around the edges of his lips. “Sunday? I said a lot of things. Mainly about the performance quality of the latest selection of All Blacks and whether the ref forgot to get