Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“Have you two finished what you’re supposed to be doing?” I asked Lorne and Cass. They bolted away, and I smiled at James. “It’s so hard to find good help these days.”
“It really is,” he agreed.
Once the cleansing and blessing were done, the doors were closed, and the heater started pumping, the house quickly became cozy. When Lorne flipped the switch and the gas fireplace turned on, I was jealous.
“You’re scowling,” he teased me.
“I’m wildly jealous of central heat and air,” I grumbled before sighing deeply. “Wood stoves take forever to get going and warm up. My house will be an icebox when I return home this evening.”
“Maybe don’t worry about that right now,” he said softly.
When Cass and her father joined us, I sent Cass to the car to get two sets of witch bells from yet another box in the back seat, sent James to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, and then I stood there gazing at Lorne, taking a moment to appreciate him in old, threadbare jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and wide chest, and heavy wool socks. They were actually my socks he’d yet to return. I found that I didn’t care in the least. I liked them on his feet.
“I bet you’re tired,” Lorne said, moving close and taking my hand, then leading me to the couch. He sat me down and asked what I wanted to drink. It was funny that this—him being nice to me—was what threw me.
When he returned, he looked at me, studying my face before passing me the glass of red wine I’d chosen from the list of alcoholic beverages he’d recounted. He took a seat where I’d been earlier, on the coffee table in front of the couch. It was a large, sturdy carved chest doubling as a place to set drinks and, from the look of items there, school textbooks, magazines, and assorted paperbacks.
After taking several sips of wine, I noticed him still staring. “What?”
“The things you do and see…I’d be scared to death.”
I shook my head.
“No. I would. I was terrified today. I don’t know how you do it.”
I shrugged. “I think if you grow up a certain way––”
“With magic you mean.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “If that’s how it’s always been, you get used to things that are different.”
He seemed to be considering that, then took a pull from his beer and set the bottle down on one of the many coasters. “My brother is making spaghetti.”
I was confused. “Yes. That’s what he said he was going to do.” I had no idea why he was bringing this up. “Do you not like spaghetti?”
“No, I do. Especially his.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have any idea how long it’s been since he’s made spaghetti?”
“So it’s a good thing?” I asked hopefully.
“It’s amazing. He hasn’t cooked at all since we moved here, and that was one of the things he always did when Cass’s mother was alive. He was the cook in their family. Ellen could burn water.”
There was a chuckle as Cass walked into the room with the two sets of bells I’d asked her to get. Both were on heavy jute, one with antique green bells with rabbits on them, the other with acorn-shaped bells I liked when I found them in the basement. There were treasures down there, and it helped that it went down farther than most people could have imagined or was possible from a reality standpoint. But that was how magic worked, all on its own, not bound by the rules of physics.
“Excellent choices,” I praised her. “Now, I need you to put one on the front door, one on the back, and I’ll speak to them in a moment.”
“These don’t look like the ones on your doors.”
“Well, mine are ancient and haven’t moved in…I don’t know, hundreds of years.”
Her eyes got wide. “Seriously?”
I nodded.
People didn’t understand that the house had been there for centuries, the contents not quite as long—the water heater was only five years old—but the witch bells hanging on the doorknobs of my home had been crocheted by hand by my great-great-great-grandmother, the bells by now so powerful that anything inhuman could be kept out simply by their presence. The ones Cass was picking from, I’d made for the festival. Lots of people bought them to hang around their home, which was fine, but really, they had a job to do.
“That’s amazing.”
“Well, yours will be good too. I made them myself and spoke to each bell as I knotted the jute, just like I do with the ladders.”
“Oh, I have my ladder hanging in my room.”
“Actually, could you bring it down and hang it by the front door? We need some extra protections until the house locks itself.”
“What does locking itself mean?” Lorne asked, leaning forward to brush a stray piece of hair out of my eyes and then tuck it behind my ear.