Bewitched (Betwixt & Between #2) - Darynda Jones Page 0,60
it.”
“Yeah?” I asked, watching Samuel grab at the zipper, only to have his fingers slip through again and again. But he never grew frustrated.
A vine grew down the wall, and one stem brushed over his cheek.
He watched in wonder as a rose bloomed in front of him. As he leaned in to smell it, and I realized he could touch and feel the vines and the roses.
Percy led one of the vines around my wrist, curling it around multiple times as he had before, and Samuel played with it. His touching the vine almost felt as though he were touching me. One end twisted around his finger, and he laughed and patted it before trying to eat it.
I pulled it out of his mouth as Ruthie sank onto the bed and wiggled her fingers at him. He tried to hide his face in my jacket, and I cast her an expression that told her exactly how adorable I found the kid.
“Witches are hardly stupid,” she said, keeping her smile steady. “Not that any of the accused were actually witches back then, but a few real witches got together and created a sort of revenge which, unlike what modern film would have you believe, is rather unlike us.”
“What kind of revenge?”
“They created a spell that reverses the effects of a witch bottle. Whoever creates one and urinates into it to try to trap a witch will instead trap his own soul upon his death.”
“I like it,” I said with a grin. “Savvy and deserving.”
“It has to be done on an individual basis, bottle by bottle, so it makes me wonder who in this area would have known to do that back then.”
“So, Sir was very likely a persecutor of innocent people.”
“Very likely.”
“And now he abuses children.”
She lowered her head. “It looks that way.”
“Ink!” Samuel said, clearly able to see through walls as well as run through them. Ink was probably next door with the wolf. Samuel hopped up and vanished through the wall.
I climbed to my feet. Not an easy task. “What do you say we give Sir a visit?”
“Sounds good. I’ve been trying to pinpoint his location. So far no luck, but I don’t have nearly the power you do.”
I walked back into her arts and crafts room, which would normally be a living room in the small apartment, and looked around at all the books and potions and maps on the table she’d pushed aside for tea with the girls. Potions were of particular interest to me, but now was not the time.
Annette was still over and out, but she was the one who’d wanted to be in the thick of it. I didn’t dare go on a ghost hunt without my illustrious sidekick. Not anymore. Not ever again. She would get what she asked for.
Her glasses sat askew on her face, her mouth pressed open with her arm, and a thick lock of curly chestnut hair lay across her nose. I snapped a pic for posterity’s sake then tried to wake her with a gentle tap on the shoulder. When that didn’t work, I shook her softly. When that only garnered a groggy moan of annoyance, I shook her harder. Nothing.
“Well,” I said to Ruthie, much louder than I needed to. “Guess I’ll go ghost hunting by myself.”
Annette bolted upright. “Ghost hunting?” she asked, morbid little being that she was. “You’re hunting ghosts?”
“Are you in or are you going to sleep on the table all day and wake up with one hell of a crick in your neck?”
“I’m in.” She swiped at the drool that had dried on one side of her mouth. “I was born to hunt ghosts.”
Somehow, I didn’t doubt that.
We said our goodbyes to Ruthie and headed upstairs after a quick, longing glance at Roane’s door.
“Do you know where this Sir is?” Annette asked me.
“I have a good idea where he’s hanging out if Samuel’s directions are any indication.”
“Oh, good. Do I need anything? Like salt? A cross? Garlic?”
I chuckled. “We aren’t hunting a vampire. Wait.” I stopped in the hallway and turned toward her. “Given everything we’ve learned, do you think vampires are real too?”
Her lids rounded behind her turquoise cat-eye glasses.
“You know what?” I said, continuing the journey. “Let’s not worry about that right now.”
She followed. “Right. Good idea.”
A knock sounded as we headed across the foyer.
I groaned, and Percy grumbled, making me wonder who it was.
Annette went to the door and pulled it open. “Oh, it’s you.”