AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I turn to her and frown. “Did you turn a man into a broomstick?”
“Not really,” she says with a shrug.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Aggie’s features harden. “Right now, they’re turning your Boogie Man into a dildo. A crystal dildo that Grandma’s going to shove into her snatch over and over until she finds someone else’s boyfriend to molest. Is that what you want?”
My jaw drops as realizations hit me like a cyclone. The crystal massagers. The reason why men steer clear of our coven. The reason why our apothecaries sell more personal massagers than herbs.
Fucking hell.
Aggie points her wand at my chest. “Pick up that rope.”
I’m shaken—both at finally learning the truth and at the thought that the Boogie Man might end up trapped as Grandma’s sex toy until the end of time.
“Easy now.” I raise both palms.
Aggie snarls. “Just do as I say.”
My hackles rise. I should fight back, try to save the poor bastard trapped in that broomstick, but the Boogie Man is facing the same terrible fate.
Feeling like the world’s most selfish bitch, I pick up the rope and wind it around the broomstick’s shaft.
“Secure it with three tight knots,” Aggie says.
The broomstick shudders as I follow her instructions.
“Now, pull it toward me.”
Pine-scented resin explodes from its tip, just as the wind changes direction and splatters me with warm drops.
“What the fuck?” I scream.
“It’s just tree sap.”
It is no such thing. After my first blow job, I’m no stranger to spunk.
I hand Aggie the rope, leaving her wrestling the broomstick like it’s an untamed horse. Ignoring them, I sprint across the chamomile lawn, up Grandma’s stairs, and into the hallway. It takes a bit of scrambling around all the bathrooms before I gather enough relaxation bombs to subdue a coven.
My pulse echoes in my ears as I speed down the stairs, passing several layers of basements. As a child, I explored every inch of Grandma’s house but could never reach the room at the very bottom.
The ritual room is where the coven conducts their most confidential spells, but I’m wondering if this is where the witches turn men into inanimate objects.
A lightning storm of panic strikes my heart as I imagine Grandma clutching a twenty-four-inch dildo made of rose quartz. I pick up my pace and reach a heavy wooden door.
The magic protecting it snaps at my skin the way it used to do when I was a child, trying to catch a glimpse of the other witches. This time, when I lean my weight on the door, it doesn’t throw me back.
My ears fill with the groan of rusty hinges, and the scrape of wood on stone. I step into a darkened chamber, filled with the scent of earth and something else.
Spunk?
When my eyes adjust to the gloom, my hands drop to my side, and the bath bombs tumble to the floor.
The Boogie Man stands atop a stone altar with his wings outstretched and with shadows streaming from his feet. Every witch, including Grandma, hangs three feet off the ground with ropes of black around their necks.
I reel forward, my breath catching.
This is worse than the time the Boogie Man murdered Norbert.
