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Walking up the path toward the cottage a short while later, Wynter puffed out a breath. Dealing with the male witch had been … well, fun, to be honest. But it hadn’t exactly improved her day, considering she’d failed to find work. Figuring the job-seeking was a waste of time, she’d decided to head home after using one of Anabel’s nifty potions to disintegrate the witch’s body. Wynter had used a separate potion to heal her wounds.
The blonde insisted on them carrying ‘evidence ridding potions,’ paranoid that death would come for them any moment and that they’d need to cover their asses. It was at times like this when Wynter was glad of it.
Strolling into the cottage, she found both Delilah and Xavier slouched on the plush sofa. “Any luck?”
Delilah pulled a face. “Nu-uh. I went to all the herbalist stores. None of the witches want an outsider working for them, and they were seriously snarky. I almost had to smack a bitch down.”
Xavier rubbed at his nape. “The witches I spoke to were just as reluctant to hire an outsider. I asked about the job opening in a bar on the surface, but the mage who ran it said I’d have to join his conclave—apparently, they’ll take in any magick user.”
Delilah pulled at her curls. “I tried applying for other jobs—waitressing, bartending, stuff like that. No joy. People were like, ‘We don’t know you or the Priestess who’d vouch for you, so no.’”
“Some said the same to me,” said Xavier. “Hell, I couldn’t even get a position as a stable hand unless I’d agree to work three months for free while they ‘got to know me.’”
“You know about horses?” asked Delilah.
His face softened. “Used to have one back when I was a kid.”
“Really?”
“No, not really.”
Delilah flapped her arms. “Then why say it? Why lie?”
“Maybe I just like to hear myself speak.”
Wynter sank into the armchair. “I had no luck finding employment either, and I’m not getting the sense that that will change anytime soon. So … I guess we could each do what we usually do to make money. Only this time, we join together and start an official business. We could run the whole thing from home, since we now have a permanent base.”
Xavier sat up straighter. “Now that’s an idea.”
Delilah nodded. “Hattie and Anabel would be up for it. Especially since it means they won’t have to leave the cottage.”
“Some of the local business owners might not be too happy,” began Xavier, “but since a lot of them were rude as fuck to me today, I can’t say I care.”
No, neither could Wynter. Mentally running through everything they’d need, she asked him, “Do you still have that tent you often held your tarot readings in?”
His mouth curved. “I do. I could pitch it in the yard whenever I do readings.” He dabbled in cartomancy, and he was damn good at it. It was the one time you could guarantee he wouldn’t lie to you. “Where would you do your thing?”
She twisted her mouth. “The shed in the backyard might work. Anyone know if it’s empty?”
“Never checked.” Xavier stood. “Let’s go find out.”
Outside, they pulled open the wooden shed door. Dust motes danced in the air, and the scents of rust, dirt, and sun-warmed wood greeted her. She ignored all that and studied the building. It wasn’t too small or cramped, which was good. It also wasn’t in bad condition.
Yes, she could use this. It would need a good clean, of course, but Anabel could whip up a brew that was better than any bleach. First, though, Wynter would need to empty the shed. That wouldn’t take long, since only the most basic backyard tools were stuffed inside it.
Before she got started on all that, though … “We need to run this plan by the others and make sure we’re right in thinking that they’ll both be up for this,” she said, turning back to the cottage.
“They’ll be up for it,” said Xavier, following her. “You know … I don’t have to stick with just card readings.”
Sensing where this was going, Wynter shook her head. “No.”
He frowned. “People like talking to the dead. They pay good money for it.”
“No.” Because, while Xavier had mastered the ability to communicate with spirits, he needed to use a conduit to speak with them. And that conduit was always a corpse. “We’re not storing dead bodies in our yard.”
“Why not? They don’t smell that bad.”
“Ugh,yeah, they do. Also, they freak people out. And the lycans will whine like babies, since their enhanced sense of smell will be tortured by the stench. So, no mediumship.”
