Bewitched (Betwixt & Between #2) - Darynda Jones Page 0,27

hope you didn’t just unleash a deadly plague upon the people of the land,” Annette said as we hurried to the restaurant.

“Fingers crossed.” Bummed about losing Samuel, I vowed to come back every day for the rest of my life if I had to. Then a thought hit me. “Hey, maybe I really did set him free. Maybe he, you know, crossed to the other side.”

“That would be amazing.”

“No, it wouldn’t. I’ll never see him again.”

“Defiance,” she said, clearly appalled.

“I know.” I was appalled too. “But I still want to see him again. He’s so beautiful, Nette.”

She put her arm in mine and pulled me closer. “Like me?”

“Exactly like you.”

Six

If overthinking situations burned calories

I’d be dead.

-Meme

The Ugly Mug Diner, a restaurant on Essex, was known for its mimosas, homemade sodas, and mimosas. Mostly its mimosas.

Before we stepped inside the restaurant, I felt a sense of serenity, like a cool breeze on a hot summer day. After we stepped inside, that serenity was bolstered by a surge of relief as I spotted a certain blond-haired boy grinning at me from behind a patron wearing a Hocus Pocus sweater. He waved and then took off, disappearing into the madding crowds.

Smiling, I let Nette lead me toward a table of ten women and two men.

Ruthie’s coven stood, all of them, and waited for us to make our way over.

“Hey, guys.” Annette gestured toward me, putting me on display like Vanna White turning over the next letter. “This is Defiance. Defiance, this is the Salem Arc of the Coven-ant.”

“We are not called the Arc of the Coven-ant,” an older woman said.

Annette looked at me. “Only because I haven’t convinced them yet.”

I smiled and offered a sheepish wave, especially since they all stood there, half with their mouths slightly ajar and half with them open to the floor.

“You’ll have to forgive my coven mates,” the woman said. She had red hair and a wisdom about her. “They’ve never met a charmling.” She held out her hand. “I’m Serinda.”

“Defiance,” I said when I took it.

“Yes, I know.” She chuckled.

“Right. You’ve met a charmling before?”

“Goddess, no.” She shook her head. “I’ve never even . . . well, I never dreamed I’d meet one. Or that we would have one right here in Salem.” A telltale wetness suddenly shimmered between her lashes. “You can’t imagine what this means to us. We are blessed and honored.”

“Thank you,” I said, a little overwhelmed. “I’m the one who’s honored.”

“Oh, posh.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Let me introduce you.” She went around the table and shared the names of each member of the coven.

I didn’t even try to retain them. That was a skill I’d never possessed, even on my best days, and it didn’t look like that was something my magics were interested in changing. I’d already forgotten woman number three.

After Serinda introduced the last member, an early twenty-something bundle of nerves named Minerva with long dark hair and a nail-biting habit, I waved an overall greeting. “Thank you all so much for watching over me while I . . . napped.”

They laughed softly, completely reverent if not a little starstruck.

It was a new feeling—as I’d never struck anyone with a star in my life.

We sat and chatted, and I quickly caught onto the routine. They took turns. One sat beside me for a few minutes for a more intimate introduction and then another took their place. On and on through ordering and lunch and coffee.

Serinda stayed by my side, and I got the feeling she was the leader of this here gang-o-witches. I liked her, and she kept me grounded through all the polite conversation.

“Is Salem always this crowded?” I asked Serinda and my newest acquaintance, an older woman whose name began with an L. At least, I thought it was an L.

Serinda scanned the area. “Goddess, no. It gets much worse.” When I wilted over that news, she chuckled. “Our biggest tourist season is in September and October. The closer to Halloween, the thicker the crowds. The locals know to steer clear of downtown for a couple of months. The rest of the year, it’s a pretty constant flow of visitors but not nearly like now.”

I looked out onto the street and the leaves that were just beginning to change. “I like it here.”

She smiled. “We like that you like it here.”

I studied my coffee, then lowered my voice. “I don’t think I’m staying.”

My words didn’t faze her, as though she’d already known what was in my heart