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The kitchen door opened, and a middle-aged woman entered the house. She was petite, with reddish-brown hair tied in a messy bun and the same bright copper eyes as Penelope.
“This is my daughter, Sierra.” She waved a hand at me. “Sierra, this is Lorelei Clay. She needs a ward.”
Sierra bowed her head in greeting. “Nice to meet you.”
Two more women trailed into the kitchen behind Sierra. They appeared older than Sierra, but sometimes it was hard to tell with witches.
“Margaret, Brenda, meet Lorelei,” Penelope said. “Margaret and Brenda are my younger sisters.”
I waved. Two to go.
“There’s a tree down,” Margaret said. “Half of it fell straight into the pond.”
“We’ll use it for firewood come winter,” Penelope said. “Tell Kelsey to get the chainsaw.”
“We’ll need to wait until she’s finished with her other chores,” Brenda said.
Penelope turned back to me. “We had a storm blow through the other night. Wreaked havoc.”
“Really? I didn’t hear it.”
“Might’ve been localized,” Penelope said. “Downtown Fairhaven is somewhat sheltered, hence the name.”
Another witch wandered into the kitchen from outside. Her face and T-shirt were splattered with dirt and there was a sheen of sweat across her brow. The smell of alcohol intensified with her arrival.
“I’ve had enough of this,” she declared, setting a large bucket on the floor next to the door. “I’m not cut out for all this manual labor.” She seemed to notice me for the first time. “Oh, hello. I didn’t realize we had company.” She shot a guilty glance at the bucket.
“Lorelei Clay, this is my niece, Kelsey,” Penelope said.
Kelsey’s hair was flaming red, and her lightly wrinkled face suggested late thirties. “I didn’t realize we were expecting company, Aunt Pen. You should’ve said so.” With a casual air, she opened the door and placed the bucket outside. She continued to hold the door open as a sixth woman crossed the threshold carrying a basket covered by a checkered cloth. A blonde ponytail poked out from the back of a baseball cap.
“It’s as hot as the devil’s balls today.” She stopped short when she noticed me, and her cheeks grew flushed. “I mean, it’sveryhot outside.”
“My younger sister, Phaedra,” Sierra said through thinned lips.
Phaedra looked to be close to my age, maybe slightly younger. “Hello.”
“She’s been away,” Penelope added, “which explains the colorful language she picked up during her absence.”
Phaedra ducked her head, clearly embarrassed. “Where would you like the eggs, mother?”
Penelope turned to regard her. “How many today?”
“Fewer than yesterday.”
Penelope’s hand tightened into a fist. “Leave them on the counter. I’ll deal with them later.”
“Are you making moonshine?” I asked.
You could’ve heard a pin drop.
Penelope’s lip curled. “Now that’s a strange question.”
“I recognize the smell. My grandfather had a friend who liked to make his own.”
Phaedra burst into laughter. “Oh, go on. Tell her.”
“I can hardly hide the smell,” Kelsey said. “I reek like a liquor store.”
