AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Obviously, that he was dead meat.”
“I don’t know. They didn’t seem to be waiting for him to die.” I thought about the vision a little more. “It felt like they were there to serve him.”
“On a platter,” West said. It was the closest thing to a joke I’d ever heard him make.
“It seemed like more of a symbol.” And I was determined to find out what they meant. It seemed the pig might have answers after all.
In the wintry conditions, Bridger Farm looked like a picture postcard. Seeing the snow-covered rooftop and white-washed land, you’d never guess that a coven of witches died here after a brutal attack by a culebrón, and a little help from Kane and me. The only remaining Bridger witch was Phaedra, and only because she’d tried to stop her family from sacrificing Ashley Pratt. Her reward was life—and sole ownership of the farm. Luckily for me, she was a talented witch who didn’t hold my involvement in the death of herfamily against me. I wasn’t a fan of witches in general, thanks to a few bad experiences, but Phaedra was well on her way to restoring my faith in their kind.
I shook the snow from my boots and knocked on the screen door.
“Come in, Lorelei,” Phaedra’s voice said, although I saw no sign of her.
The door swung open toward me, and I backed out of the way to avoid being hit. The interior door creaked open inward.
I stepped across the threshold. “Phaedra?”
“In the kitchen,” her voice rang out.
I walked to the back of the farmhouse. Phaedra stood at the open hearth, stirring the contents of a black cauldron. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun. Over her plaid shirt and jeans, she wore a green apron adorned with black cat faces.
“You installed a new ward,” I said.
“Yes, sorry about the screen door. I’m still working out a few kinks,” Phaedra said apologetically.
I gestured to the cauldron. “You’re going old school.”
“I found it in one of the outbuildings when I was clearing out all the junk. I decided it was time to get back to basics.”
I scented the air. “It smells good.”
“It should. It’s got enough cinnamon and vanilla to compete with Starbucks.”
“Is this for you or a client?”
“A client. Business has been steady, even with the extreme weather.” She glanced at me. “How’s the Castle holding up with all the snow?”
“Still standing.” Phaedra didn’t need to hear my tales of woe.
“That’s encouraging.”
“I’ve been considering getting those fake Santa legs thatstick out of the chimney to make it look like he’s stuck upside down.”
“I’d be more concerned with getting a grate to keep squirrels from climbing down the flue.”
“That’s because you’re more pragmatic than I am.”
She smiled. “Bullshit.”
I laughed. “You do remember I bought Bluebeard’s Castle, right? Does that strike you as the type of purchase a pragmatic person would make?”
“Maybe not, but everything you’ve done since then suggests so. You’ve tackled one project at a time, very methodical.”
“Only because I’m limited by funds. If I had an infinite pool of money, I’d be making decisions willy-nilly.”
Phaedra let go of the large wooden spoon and regarded me. “If you say so.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “I don’t think you need me to remind you not to summon any demons to help you replenish your bank account.”
“Definitely not.” Phaedra’s family of witches had been so desperate for wealth that they’d summoned a variety of monsters to help fund their desired lifestyle of champagne witches and caviar dreams. As was often the case with summoning demons for personal gain, it didn’t end well for them.
