Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
I join the only other person waiting at the corner to cross, and she just so happens to be Good Witch Willow. Her stereotypical pointed boot taps impatiently as she rummages through her colorful velvet tote in search of something. Being a witch must be interesting. Not that I believe in all that. Divination and spirits and so on never seemed particularly probable to me. My father is an atheist and taught us to question everything and always demand proof. I’m also a librarian, and librarians like facts. An established truth is a beautiful thing. They help to prop up society and keep us warm at night. Or they used to.
The walk light flashes, and Willow’s gray braid swings as she steps off the curb. I follow with my mind wandering, thinking about what else Josh might need and whether I should buy him some soda. But out of the corner of my eye, I see it—a sleek vehicle that doesn’t stop like the others. It doesn’t even slow down. It is, in fact, speeding straight toward us with headlights dazzlingly bright.
There’s no time to think. I grab the older woman from behind as I propel us both back toward the curb and tumble to the ground. Had she been any bigger, it might not have worked. But my years of infrequent gym attendance finally come in handy. Wheels screech and the horn blares as the sports car roars past us. It’s so damn close I can feel the rush of air in its wake.
But we don’t get hit.
Holy shit. My heart is hammering. Willow’s elbow digs into my stomach as she rolls off me onto the pavement. Whatever. I am just honestly amazed to still be amongst the living.
“Asshole!” Good Witch Willow hollers at the fading taillights.
The cool damp ground is hard beneath me, but overhead a star twinkles in a gap between the clouds. Parts of me hurt. My hand is bloody and scraped, and my hip is bruised. There’s also a tear in the tiered skirt of my new pale blue minidress, not to mention numerous stains from the wet and dirty sidewalk. Odds are also good that I just flashed my panties at the entire street.
Willow raises a brow at me. “Oh, it’s you.”
“You’re welcome,” I reply dryly.
A young man standing nearby caught the whole thing on his cell. And is still filming. A jogger stops and offers Willow his hand. He gently pulls her to her feet before doing the same for me. Which is nice of him.
Willow brushes herself off, gathering the items that fell from her tote. Breath mints, hand sanitizer, and such. “I didn’t see that car coming at all.”
Were I not still catching my breath, I would definitely make a smart-ass comment about her supposed prognostication abilities. Or at least give it serious consideration. But my hip is aching and my hand stings. I wince as I pick a piece of gravel out of one of my deeper scratches. What a mess.
“You’re the one who wanted to know what people ask me, aren’t you?” She tosses her braid over her shoulder and narrows her gaze on me. Like she’s attempting to stare into my soul or something.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “Are you okay?”
She nods. “Falling on you made for a soft landing.”
“Great.”
“There’s a lot that people would like to know,” she continues. “But the most popular questions tend to revolve around love. Are they cheating on me? Will they come back to me? Who’s my soulmate? Things like that.”
“Makes sense, I guess.”
“Then they tend to move on to more mundane issues, like if they’re going to get that promotion, or are they on the right career track? Then you’ve got the ones who think they’re funny. They like to ask me for this week’s lotto numbers.”
I snort. “That is kind of funny.”
“Not when you’re hearing it for the hundredth time, it isn’t. And then there are the ones who want to know when they’re going to die.” She cocks her head and sighs. “That car would have hit me if you hadn’t been there. Given the speed it was going, I doubt it would have ended well for me.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I keep my mouth shut.
“It would seem you’re owed something.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Be quiet and listen.” Willow draws herself up to her full height, and her gaze turns hazy. As if she’s staring into the middle distance. Then, in a sonorous tone, she announces, “He is cheating on you. But I think you already know that deep down. The name of your soulmate is Alistair George Arthur Lennox. What a mouthful.”
My smile is bemused. “Wait a minute. You don’t mean—”
“You will be passed over for the promotion. They really don’t appreciate you. I have no idea why you’ve stayed there so long.”