Хармони Харт - Basic Witch

“See you this evening for your first lesson. I’ll bring dinner.”

“I’ll be here,” I said.

I followed him to the front door, where we ran into Clara. Beau made a few minutes of uncomfortable small talk with her, much of which involved her running her hand up and down the length of his arm while batting her eyelashes, as I glared at her from the doorway. Once he managed to extricate himself and disappeared down the street, I threw one last dirty look her way and slammed the door.

“Hey! Some of us are trying to get some shuteye!” Titus whined.

“You’ve been sleeping all day,” I said.

“ There’s a reason they call them cat naps. Because cats are really good at them.”

“I can’t argue with you there,” I said. I took in the mess of receipts she had scattered across the room last night. “Go back to sleep. Don’t worry about this mess. I’ll clean it up.”

“Thanks, ” she purred. Titus hopped up into the front window, circling in a particularly sunny spot, and curled up to slumber yet again.

“I was being sarcastic,” I mumbled out loud.

I set to work picking up the receipts, stashing them neatly in an envelope. I’d need to go through them later in the week, but for now, keeping them safe from another feline-fueled accident would be enough. As I was filing the receipts away, I noticed a curious note scribbled on the back of one: CC Notice 10/31 .

I flipped the receipt over and studied the front: 332 — $0. I slipped a few more receipts out, noting that each one showed a three digit number and a dollar amount, then tucked them back into the envelope and hid it between two books on a shelf near the checkout counter. I wasn’t sure what they meant—if anything—but I certainly wasn’t in the mood to lose any potential evidence that might be able to exonerate me.

In the meantime, I had a lot to learn about running this shop. I pulled out a few of Morty’s ledgers, and, after locating a fountain pen, cracked them open and dove in, losing myself in the mindless task of organization until I heard Gil’s knock on the door.

By the time Beau showed up with dinner that night, I was famished.

My meeting with Detective Otto had been uneventful—mostly me recounting what I had already told him, and him giving me one hundred eye-roll-inducing reasons why I was the most likely suspect. I did share my initial suspicions about Clarence but also told him I didn’t think he was the killer. To his credit, the Detective said he had already confirmed Clarence’s alibi with several members of his household staff.

He also told me they’d determined there was no sign of forced entry at the shop, not aside from where Christopher Irons busted down the door to get to me when he heard me screaming. He was adamant that the door was solidly in place before he kicked it open, and had several witnesses who saw him go in just seconds before them—all of whom spotted me sprawled across Morty’s body.

That only left me, and Mason, who had a key to the shop. And while the Detective hadn’t spoken with Mason yet considering all that had to be done for his grandfather’s funeral, he had it on good authority than Mason was actually at the Bank of Salem around the time of Morty’s murder. In Detective Otto’s eyes, that only left… me. Which brought us back to square one.

Luckily, Gil was able to convince him to hold off on making any arrests until they had a few more days to investigate. After all, it wasn’t like I was a flight risk.

Destiny met me back at the shop, a cinnamon cappuccino in hand, to begin the process of redecorating. In just a few short hours, we had made plans to completely transform the upstairs apartment. Titus was already looking forward to basking in the glory of her new fireside cat bed. Destiny would be coming back in a couple of days to do the actual redecorating, and I couldn’t wait to show Beau our plans.

But first, we had a meal, and then a wand lesson, to get through. I left one last tenant ledger on the checkout counter and joined Beau on the tattered green shop sofa.

“I can’t believe you have Chinese food in Salem,” I mumbled through bites of chicken lo mein. “This is delicious.”

“If you look hard enough, we have nearly every cuisine you can think of.” He bit into an eggroll, chewing thoughtfully. “Assuming it was around at least seven years ago,” he added. “When people cross over, they usually search for ways to recreate what they miss most from home. For a lot of people, that translates to food.”

“Thanks again for bringing dinner,” I said. I filled him in on the day’s events—saving the upcoming apartment transformation as a surprise—and updated him on my progress with organizing the shop.

“I was able to move through the property management books pretty quickly,” I said. “I only have one tenant ledger left, but I can’t quite figure that one out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Despite his outwardly messy tendencies, Morty kept pretty detailed notes on all of his tenants. Except one. That ledger doesn’t have any entries. Ever.”

“Which tenant?”

“Cook’s Books.”

“Interesting. The bookstore has been in Clara’s family for decades. It doesn’t make sense that Morty wouldn’t have any records on it.”

“No sense at all. Maybe it’s a new ledger. I haven’t had a chance to go through those bookcases over there. I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”

“I’m confident you will.” He cuffed my chin with his thumb and winked at me. “Clever witch.”

“Save the compliments on my intelligence for after our lesson,” I said, shifting our focus to my studies.

“The first lesson you need to master is a simple immobilization spell,” Beau said. “For that, you’ll need a wand.” He produced a narrow black box and passed it to me. I unlatched it, removing the contents—a long, slender dowel of pale wood—and curled my lip at him.

“This is it? This is my magic wand? It looks like an oversized popsicle stick.”

Beau chuckled. “It’s not much to look at. I’d like to follow that up with an encouraging statement like, ‘But it does the job,’” he continued. “But the reality is the Coven-issued training wands are pretty worthless.”

“Then what’s the point in using them?” I asked.

“Safety, mainly. Preventing young witches from accessing the power enabled by a custom wand until they’ve proven they can control the most basic spells. At least that’s the Coven’s position. I have a different opinion on the matter, but that’s not important.”

“Okay. So what do I do with it?” I gripped the wand in my hand, swishing it around until Beau caught it between his fingers.

“A wand is not a toy. It is a conduit for magical energy. Please don’t go waving it around like that. You could hurt yourself.”

“You’re right.” I set the wand down in my lap. “I’m listening.”

“The first spell is a defensive spell that immobilizes a person or object. First, we’ll master an object. Then, an animal. And finally, another person,” he said. “As in most magic, intention is everything.” He drew his own wand and pointed it at the fireplace. “ Inmotus .” All at once, the crackling flames froze in place.

I grabbed his arm, awe-struck. “That is so freaking cool! Show me again!”

He showed me twice more before asking, “Are you ready to try?”

I nodded eagerly, brandishing my wand. With a flick of my wrist, I snapped it toward the fire and repeated Beau’s incantation. “ Inmotus! ”

With a deafening whoosh, the flames exploded into the room like a deadly backdraft. Beau dove, taking me to the ground with him, and aimed his wand at the unexpected inferno. “ Extinguo! ”