Spells Trouble (Sisters of Salem #1) - P. C. Cast Page 0,6

that you said that.”

“She’s a cat. Unless your mom has some kind of cat-talking spell, Xena has no idea what I’m saying.” Emily dropped her bag and it landed on the dock with a clatter. “Not that I’d be surprised if your mom did have a cat-talking spell. I mean, that cat has been alive for a million years…”

Hunter picked at her fingernail. There were some things even Emily shouldn’t know.

“Oh my god, your mom has a cat-talking spell!” Emily kicked off her flips and pushed them under the empty chaise next to Hunter. “I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me! Spill!”

The blaring speakers of a nearing ski boat saved Hunter from having to tell a lie Emily would have seen through before it left Hunter’s lips.

Emily’s back stiffened and she craned her long neck to get a better view at the boat’s passengers. “Well, well, well, would you look at that.”

Hunter tucked her chin into her shirt and followed Emily’s gaze. The black-and-red boat was back. The five guys stood in the center, bobbing in time to the pulsing music. One of the shirtless members crouched down. Silver cans glinted in the sunlight as he tossed one to each of his friends.

Emily rose to her tiptoes and slid the thin straps of her dress down her russet brown shoulders. When she turned on the charm, appeal poured from Emily like a tapped tree poured sap.

Hunter chewed the tip of her fingernail and watched as, one at a time, each guy stopped bouncing and turned like a mob of meerkats to face the dock. The lump returned to the back of her throat and she sank farther down into her seat.

Emily continued her show, adjusting her strapless bikini top before smoothing the dress down her narrow hips and letting it pool around her feet. Not once did she look at the boat or the guys or even Hunter. She was alone. An island enjoying its own beauty. She didn’t bother picking up her discarded dress. Instead, she stepped out of it and settled into the lounger. “I just love a good view, don’t you?” She slid her sunglasses down to the rounded tip of her nose and stared out at the boat.

Hunter smoothed her fingers over her pendant. “I’m Hunter, not Mercy.” She said the words without thinking. It was a line she’d spoken more than any other. It was a line that usually ended a conversation.

With a sigh, Emily eyed Hunter. “Well, yeah.” Emily’s golden eyes swept over Hunter’s damp ponytail, closed journal, plain white tee, and plain jean shorts. “You two may be identical to most, but I’ve known you since second grade. Plus, there’s no way Mercy would be caught dead without some sort of…” Emily waved her hand in front of Hunter, her gesture taking in every bit of the twin. “Bedazzlement. Your sister also wouldn’t arrive half an hour before her party even started.” She twirled a long curl around her finger. “I mean, Mercy practically is the party, so I guess it won’t officially start until she gets here anyway.”

Hunter tugged her shirt from her chin and clutched her journal against her chest. It pressed against the pendant of Tyr hidden under her shirt as she resumed chewing her nail and stared past the boat at the sunlight glinting off the lake’s gently pulsing waves. “Why are you here so early, Em?”

Emily hefted her bag onto her lap and pulled out a stack of red cups. “My mom just flew back from her trip to DC and my dad doesn’t leave for some gross embalming conference in LA for a couple days.” She plucked a cup off for herself and offered the stack to Hunter. “So, both of my parents are home. Occupying the same space at the same time. And we all know how well they do that.”

Hunter stared at the stop sign–red plastic cups and swallowed. She didn’t want one. She also didn’t want to be rude. “I’m sorry, Em,” she said and took a cup.

“Don’t be. They did it to themselves.” Emily shook her head and set the tower of cups on the deck before reaching back into her bag. She wiggled her shoulders as she pulled out a glass bottle and unscrewed the cap. “Let’s toast to divorce.”

Hunter grimaced. “Is that vodka?”

Emily’s brow furrowed. “I brought mixers, too. I’m not a savage.” The clear liquid whooshed as Emily poured some into Hunter’s cup and even more into her

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