What's a Witch to Do?: A Midnight Magic Mystery Read Online Free

on principle. I personally know vampires, and they do not sparkle.
    Normally I try to keep the TV consumption to a minimum, but I have too much work and not enough energy to protest. “Fine. Go take your shower then you can start the movie. The moment it’s over, lights out okay? I will check.”
    “Okay, Aunt Mona.” I give her one final kiss before beginning to walk out. “Aunt Mona?”
    I spin around. “Yeah, honey?”
    “I like Dr. Sutcliffe. He’s super nice, don’t you think?”
    “I guess. I barely know him.”
    “But you think he’s handsome, right?”
    “I—I suppose.” Oh hell, I’m so obvious a child can pick up my crush.
    “I think he likes you too. You should ask him out.”
    “It’s—it’s not that simple, honey.”
    “I bet he’d say yes.”
    “Well, I will think about it.” And I more or less run away from my niece after those words. Do not think about him. Don’t. Keep busy. Never a problem for me. Cora is in the bathtub when I step in. “You okay? Keeping your hand dry?”
    “Yes, Aunt Mona,” she says, showing it off to me. “It itches.”
    “It will for a couple of days,” I say. “Need help shampooing your hair?” She nods. I set my snack and the scissors on the counter before pouring water on her long, almost white hair and adding shampoo. In a couple of years it’ll be brown like mine and Sophie’s, but for now she can enjoy being a blonde. “And what have we learned today?”
    “Don’t use scissors unless you’re there,” she says in that chipmunk voice.
    “No, don’t use adult scissors period. You ask me, okay?”
    “Okay.”
    After the bath, I detangle and brush her hair before leading her into my office so Sophie can shower. It’s the smallest room, with sage-colored walls, bookcases along a whole wall, my oak table covered with herbs, an iron cauldron, and other altar items. Cora likes watching me mix potions. She and my fat old Russian Blue cat, Captain Wentworth (named after the hero from my favorite Jane Austen book, Persuasion ), keep me company as I mix a fertility potion and anoint a gambler’s charm before it’s time for the frog and princess. I tuck the girls into their beds, switch on the electronic babysitter, and shut off the light. They’ll be asleep before the happy ending.
    The majority of our orders come from non-practitioners who stumbled onto the site looking for a love or luck charm. Love potions and charms are strictly forbidden per Wiccan law, so I just use a luck spell in its place. I can spot the real, genetic witches from their orders. A regular person would never want a “creating a familiar” spell or “opening new worlds” potion. I usually send those people a note inviting them to check out the coven website. Another one of my brain children. There are about fifty official covens in America, and we’re linked to forty of them. We all share spells, concerns, or we just chat. It’s hard to make friends when you have to pretend not to exist.
    I finish eight of the thirteen orders before the smell of burning herbs and exhaustion get to me, and I can barely see. I’ll finish the rest tomorrow. I clean up before picking up the Captain and checking on the girls a second time. Both have caught the train to the land of Nod. They really are good girls. We had some growing pains in the beginning but dealt with them soon enough. Once they realized I wasn’t going to beat or abandon them, we got along great. From the little I could get out of them, I know they were dragged around Europe. Sophie speaks fluent French and Cora once mentioned the Piazza Navona in Rome. Goddess knows what my sister was involved with and with whom. I don’t even know if the girls have the same father. I’ve tried to draw more out of them, but it’s like they’re scared to tell me. When Ivy showed up she seemed skittish, emaciated, and pale as a junkie. We didn’t get a chance to talk before she vanished, leaving me with two shy, frightened