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The elevator completes its descent, and Aspen gives me an odd look. “What are you doing?”
I sweep my hands over myself from head to toe. “Casting off the bad mojo that stepped onto the lift with you.”
His shoulders pull back. “I did not bring bad mojo with me.”
“No?” When he shakes his head, my hands move to my hips. “Then explain how the lantern made it through everyone’s trip down except yours.”
Behind him, Mel covers her mouth to stifle her giggle.
Aspen starts to glance over his shoulder toward her, and I flap my arms for his attention. “Let’s start the tour of the very secret inner workshop of the Great and Powerful Wendall Witch.”
His blue eyes glint with interest, and he forgets about Mel as he steps forward.
I walk backward. “To the left, under the super-secret tarp, we have a giant cage in which we’ve locked Owen up in the past.” I drop my voice and lean forward. “Not for sex reasons.”
Aspen’s eyes widen as he glances toward the large box-shape in the corner.
I pump my arms in front of my chest like a traffic director. “Moving forward, we have the sterile worktables.”
Aspen’s gaze jumps to the tables, and his lips part on a quick intake of breath.
I point up at the ceiling. “Hooks convenient for hanging things.” I angle my arms to the right. “Electric cauldrons are on the shelves, and in the suspiciously shadowed space between the shelves, you will find an escape route that leads to the dunes.”
I pause and tap a foot over the drain in the concrete floor. “Drain for washing away unwanted things.”
Dismay fills Aspen’s face as he glances around. “Is this…really your workshop?”
I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Negative, sir! This place is creepy as fuck.”
“Hey, now,” Tris protests from behind me. “Don’t make fucks creepy.”
“This place is creepy as a ghost truck on an abandoned highway,” I correct.
“Better,” Tris approves. “And more horror movie accurate.”
Aspen’s focus shifts past me. “Is that a plastic curtain?”
“Right you are, sir.” I peer over my shoulder at it and catch a few smiles on the lips of my coven members, who spent quite a lot of time down here when they first arrived. “It’s where we hide the bodies, sir.”
“It’s just the study area,” Mel tells him. “The curtain keeps it separated from the workshop.”
“It’s no more inviting than this side, but you can take a peek if you want.” I turn away from them to head for the refreshment table, my eyes on a hot chocolate packet. “The single desk and chair are chock-full of mystical wonder, I’m sure. But it’s otherwise empty.”
Aspen looks around, his gaze lingering on the Bunsen burners on the shelves and the corresponding propane tanks on the floor. “Have all the generations of your family practiced in this space?”
I dump my cocoa into a unicorn mug and fill it with hot water. “Unless you have a spell to speak to the dead, the world will never know.”
“My moms think Rowe’s grandmother was more of an alchemist.” Mel walks to the teacher’s table at the front and sets her heavy bag on it. “We’re not sure what type of witch Rowe’s mother was, since Rowe doesn’t remember her practicing magic. She left Hartford Cove to attend college and didn’t move back.”
As I take my seat next to Delilah at the front of the room, Aspen glances around at the other witches. “Does anyone here know what your affinity is?”
I have no idea and turn to look over my shoulder at the others.
Tris raises his hand. “Is being fabulous an affinity?”
Mel smiles. “No, but nice try.”
He slumps back into his chair. “Then, no.”
