Хармони Харт - Basic Witch

"Shhh. Just a minute. I'm trying to count."

Meow. Meow. Meow.

"Oh, fine!" I lifted her out of the drawer, shoved the cash back into the register and slammed it shut with my elbow. "We'll eat first. But then I need to finish up my work. No interruptions. Promise?"

Meow.

I rolled my eyes and opened the sliding door nestled between two bookcases, revealing a narrow set of stairs to my inherited apartment. As I turned to call Titus to go ahead of me—no way was I letting her trip me on those steps—a glint of golden light caught my eye.

The citrine pendant.

I caught the gold chain between my fingers, lifting it from the display stand to examine it more closely. When I dropped the crystal into my palm, I could have sworn I felt it radiating warmth. I thought of Marnie's words.

Creativity. Prosperity. Abundance.

It's not like I actually believed a chunk of rock could possess magical properties. Even so, it couldn't hurt. I draped the necklace around my neck and spun around to check out my reflection in the full-length mirror behind me.

Oversized black tunic sweater, black Lululemon yoga pants, black sweater Uggs scrunched down over my calves, a bright pink circle scarf, and hair piled on top of my head in a messy bun. The epitome of a basic white girl. I frowned. Aside from the overabundance of black, I looked nothing like the women who frequented this shop. Maybe that was part of the problem. Did I need a new work uniform? I plucked my phone from my pocket, opened my browser, and typed "Stevie Nicks wardrobe" into the search bar.

Meow.

"One second. I just need to pin a few things to my Style board." I thumbed through the images of flowing broomstick skirts and shimmering scarves, saving every photo along the way. "If you want me to make enough money to keep buying you that expensive cat food, I need to look the part."

Meow.

"Okay, okay, fine." I turned back toward the doorway, still staring at my phone, and gestured absently toward the stairs.

Meow!

Titus leaped from the counter onto my shoulder, sinking her claws into my back as she clung on for dear life. I pitched forward with a yelp and fell into the bookcase, which proceeded to rotate backward as I grabbed onto a shelf with both hands in a failed attempt to steady myself.

The bookcase spun around at a dizzying speed, opening into some sort of hidden room. I stumbled forward and released my grip on the shelf just as I felt my boot catch on something solid. I closed my eyes and put my arms in front of my face to brace my inevitable tumble to the ground.

But I never actually hit the floor. I opened one eye to see what broke my fall.

Only it wasn't a what. It was a who .

I was sprawled across the slight belly of an old, bespectacled man, lying flat on his back, his icy blue eyes wide with shock.

And he was absolutely, positively, definitely dead .

I screamed bloody murder, scrambling off of his torso just as the bookcase slammed shut over the passage to my shop, and everything went black.

I opened my eyes to see a round face peering down at me. "Oh, good! You're awake!" The man turned away from me. "She's awake, everyone!" He extended a broad, hairy hand, and I took it, allowing him to pull me up to a sitting position. Even with my butt planted firmly on the floor, he was only slightly taller than me. "Say, I don't think I've met you before. What's your name?"

"Gemma." My voice came out as a pathetic squeak. I cleared my throat. "Gemma Bradbury."

"Looks like you took quite a spill. Does anything feel broken?"

"I think I'm okay." I wiggled my wrists and ankles. "I'm not exactly the graceful type." I looked past him to see a crowd of people filing into the room through an open door. My gaze fell on the old man—the freaking dead body—I had fallen on top of, and my mouth went bone dry. "Is he...?"

“Dead? ’fraid so." He stroked his red beard. "I was just passing by when I heard you scream. Had to break the door in to get to ya, though. I sent an owl for the Chief. She should be here any minute."

"An owl?" I must have hit my head when I fell. I blinked, trying to bring the room into focus.

Suddenly, I remembered my cat. "Titus!" On cue, her furry form appeared in front of me, and she jumped into my lap. She stared up at me with those huge amber eyes and parted her mouth.

“Oh, my Bast! I finally killed us, just like you said! What happened? Where are we?” She jerked her face toward the old man's body and back to me. “ And who is that?”

“I don't know! ” Wait. Was my cat talking to me? I pressed my palms against my eyes. Was I dreaming?

“You can hear me? Thank Bastet! Oh, this is the best news! All those years of talking to myself and now you can finally talk back! I have so much to tell you! I—”

“Don't know what, Miss?" The bearded man looked at me like I had three heads.

“Don’t know how I got here. Or what happened.” I pointed to the dead man lying beside me. “Or who that is. Maybe you can help me?”

The sturdy man stroked his beard as he turned to look at the crowd. “Does anyone recognize this woman?” The members of the gathering crowd all shook their heads, a few of them narrowing their eyes suspiciously at me. The room grew even quieter.

A man in some sort of law enforcement uniform pushed his way through the throng of people, ambling forward with his hand on his hip, holding what looked like a baton. “Just what do we have here?”

The red-bearded man groaned. “Otto, I called for the Chief. What are you doing here?”

“That’s Detective Otto to you, troll. The Chief is busy. There’s a dead body in Salem, and it’s my job to figure out what happened.”

“I have a name you know,” the man—troll?—muttered, almost under his breath. He turned back to me. “Sorry about this, miss. If I’d known Detective Otto was going to show up, I’d have gotten you out of here before he arrived. He leaned forward and whispered, “I don’t know whose idea it was to give this yo-yo a badge and a baton, but he sure don’t make it easy to get things done around here.”

“I heard that, troll.” Detective Otto stomped over and hovered over the dead man’s body, bending forward at the waist to peer at him. He removed his baton from its holster and used the end of it to poke the old man in the side. He stood up straight with a look of satisfaction on his face and announced to the crowd, “Yep! He’s dead alright. Old Mortimer Moncrief is dead.” A collective gasp rose from the crowd, and everyone began chattering at a low volume. The Detective wheeled on me. “Why’d you do it?”

“Me? I didn’t do anything!” I winced at how shrill my voice sounded inside my head. First, I stumbled into some sort of weird secret room and literally trip over a dead body, and now I was being accused of murder? Let’s just say I was starting to panic a bit. “I don’t even know where I am. Or how I got here. Or who that is!” I pointed emphatically at the old man’s body just as I realized I was still sitting on the floor right next to him. “Ugh!” I let out an involuntary shudder, wrapped one arm around Titus and scrambled to my feet. “I mean, I’m obviously sorry he is dead, whoever he is. But I had nothing to do with it. He was like that when I got here.”

Detective Otto frowned at me. “And what exactly are you doing here after closing time anyway?”

“I live here!” I bit my lip as I realized that wasn’t exactly true. “What I mean is, I live in the magic shop on the other side of that bookcase.” I pointed to the shelf behind me. “One minute I was standing in my shop, and the next the bookcase was spinning, and I ended up in this room. This man was dead when I got here. If I killed him, why would I scream and draw attention to myself?”