Witchy Start (Neighborhood Witch Committee Book 1) Read online

  We both stared at her. “You pee in the shower?” I asked. “Yuck!”

  “Not yuck. It all washes down the drain,” Estrella stressed.

  “I’m never taking a shower after you again,” I said. “From now on I always go in first.”

  “Me second!” Ernestine hurried to put in.

  “But, you guys, it’s the most natural thing in the world!”

  “I don’t care! I don’t want to traipse around in your pee.”

  She rolled her eyes again. “Whatevs. Time for your feet.”

  “Huh?”

  “I knew it! You don’t wash your feet, do you?”

  “Of course I wash my feet! I wash everything.”

  “Do you use a pumice stone?”

  “I… do,” I said, prevaricating. Sometimes.

  Strel frowned. “Just mind you don’t use mine. Mine’s the pink one. Yours the red one, and Stien’s the black one. You can’t miss.”

  “Whatevs,” I said. “Are we done?”

  “Rinse your Salux cloth thoroughly and hang it up so it can dry. Then use a towel to pat your body dry. Pat—not rub!”

  “Oh, for the love of Mike, Strel!”

  “And, finally, apply body lotion and face cream, as the pores—”

  “Enough with the pores already!”

  She spread her arms. “And that’s it. If you observe these basics, you’re off to a good start.”

  “A good start?”

  “Oh, there’s a lot more, but that will have to wait.” She gave us a goofy grin. “I have to tinkle!”

  And then, before we could stop her, she hurried into the bathroom and locked the door.

  Chapter Three

  As usual, breakfast was served in the kitchen. Since at any one time Gran’s B&B only hosts two guests, there was plenty of space in the large and cozy kitchen. Besides, most of the guests listed breakfast as one of the best features of Safflower House. As an aspiring baker, I’d decided to offer our guests an exclusive taste of my latest baking experiment: pumpkin spice cutout cookies.

  I’d made the cookies late last night, and now took a peek in the oven, where I’d left them to cool overnight. To my surprise, they didn’t look as well as I remembered. For one thing, they weren’t orange, as they were supposed to be, but a mottled brown. The shape was off, too. Not the nice round pumpkin shape but more of an odd lumpy shape. As if someone had beat up my cookies.

  “Oh, are those your pumpkin cookies?” asked Gran. “What a nice treat!” And before I could stop her, she’d pulled the baking plate from the oven and was dumping the cookies into a glass bowl and setting it on the kitchen table. “Mrs. Oats will be delighted,” she added.

  I cast a quick look at my cookies. I wasn’t sure Gran was right. At the very least I should probably have a taste before anyone else touched them, but just as I was reaching for them, Mona Oats waltzed in, accompanied by Glenn Kerb and… Great-aunt Leigh.

  “Leigh!” Gran cried. “I thought you were going to fast today!”

  “I thought so, too,” said Leigh with a confused smile. “I changed my mind when I saw that the stars were aligned in such a constellation that I can’t possibly deny myself nourishment today.”

  “Probably the same constellation those ‘healing stones’ formed around my bed,” Mona grumbled as she took a seat at the sturdy oak table and reached for the coffee can.

  “Oh no,” said Leigh. “Those stones were placed to synchronize with your soul rhythm.”

  “Soul rhythm,” Mona grumbled. “What a load of—”

  “And of course I also took into consideration your very particular aura emanation.” Leigh, taking a seat next to Mona, stared at her neighbor for a moment, her expression dreamy. “Your aura still needs cleansing, Mrs. Oats. If you want I can give you a session of my well-known soul cure.”

  “Soul cure? There’s nothing wrong with my soul,” grunted the crusty old lady.

  “Oh, it’s got nothing to do with that,” Leigh assured her. “It’s simply a way to create a bridge from my soul to your soul. A soul-to-soul connection, permitting me to examine what blockages might be preventing you from reaching your full potential. My friends back home in England are always very happy with my soul-to-souls. They say they remove a lot of ballast. Spirit ballast.”

  “Well, I like my ballast. So I’ll have to say no to your soul-to-soul and no to your stones.”

  “Resistance,” said Leigh knowingly. “I see it all the time. You’re not allowing yourself to be healed, Mrs. Oats.”

  “I’m not allowing you to come near me,” Mona corrected her. “There’s a difference.”

  “Well, be that as it may, I’m still going to give you the benefit of being in my energetic aura.”

  Mona moved back a little. “Your aura?”

  “Yes, simply from being within ten feet of me, you’re already benefitting from my heightened energetic state.” She gave her neighbor a beaming smile. “You’ll feel better in no time, Mrs. Oats.”

  “But I don’t want to feel better. I’m feeling just fine!”

  “I’m afraid the universe has brought us together for a reason, and that reason might well be that our souls share a high level of compatibility and energetic synchronicity.” She placed a hand on the old woman’s brow. “Can’t you feel it, Mrs. Oats? Can’t you feel the vibrations?”

  “No, I certainly can’t,” said Mona snappishly. “Please remove your vibrations from my person, Mrs. Shamrock.”

  “Too late,” said Leigh with a sigh. Then her face clouded. “Oh, dear.” She cast her eyes up at the ceiling. “I sense a strong disruption in the energetic continuum.”

  “What’s the energetic continuum?” asked Glenn, taking a seat across the table from the two ladies.

  “The veil that covers us,” said Leigh vaguely. “There’s a powerful disruption headed our way.”

  “You mean like a storm front?” asked Glenn, genuinely interested. He picked a cookie from the glass bowl and nibbled it absentmindedly. I watched him with alarm, but so far all seemed fine.

  “Trouble is stirring,” said Leigh, her voice taking on a dramatic note.

  ”If you keep dumping those rocks of yours in my room, you’re certainly right about that,” said Mona, also picking up one of my cookies and taking a bite.

  To my surprise, both she and Glenn seemed to like them, as they quickly gobbled up the entire cookie and then added a second to their plates. I heaved a sigh of relief. My baking skills must have improved. My cookies might not be much to look at, but apparently the taste was fine.

  “Look, I’m all for people expressing themselves and doing whatever the good Lord designed them for,” said Mona. “But there are limits. And those limits are clearly reached when people start tripping over stones when trying to get out of bed in the morning. So for the last time: please don’t put any more of that junk in my room, Mrs. Shamrock.”

  But Leigh wasn’t listening. Instead, she seemed to be having some kind of vision. Gran was eyeing her closely, indicating she, unlike Mona, was giving credence to her great-aunt’s ramblings.

  “What do you see, Auntie Leigh?” asked Gran.

  Strel and Stien had joined us at the table and were giving my cookies a suspicious glance.

  “I see… old scores being settled,” said Leigh in a soft voice. “I see blood being spilled and violence being indiscriminately doled out. I see a family being ripped apart. I see… murder and mayhem.” At this, she glanced up at Gran, whose face had taken on a grave expression.

  “Oh, dear,” Gran muttered.

  Just at that moment, a stentorian voice rang out in the corridor. “Knock knock. Anyone home?”

  It was Sam Barkley, my cop boyfriend. Which meant Auntie Leigh might be right.

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  About Nic

  Nic Saint is the pen name for writing couple Nick and Nicole Saint. They’ve penned 60+ novels in the romance, cat sleuth, middle grade, suspense, comedy and cozy myster
y genres. Nicole has a background in accounting and Nick in political science and before being struck by the writing bug the Saints worked odd jobs around the world (including massage therapist in Mexico, gardener in Italy, restaurant manager in India, and Berlitz teacher in Belgium).

  When they’re not writing they enjoy Christmas-themed Hallmark movies (whether it’s Christmas or not), all manner of pastry, comic books, a daily dose of yoga (to limber up those limbs), and spoiling their big red tomcat Tommy.

  www.nicsaint.com

  Also by Nic Saint

  Washington & Jefferson

  First Shot

  Alice Whitehouse

  Spooky Times

  Spooky Trills

  Ghosts of London

  Between a Ghost and a Spooky Place

  Public Ghost Number One

  Ghost Save the Queen

  Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)

  A Tale of Two Harrys

  Ghost of Girlband Past

  The Mysteries of Max

  Purrfect Murder

  Purrfectly Deadly

  Purrfect Revenge

  Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)

  Purrfect Heat

  Purrfect Crime

  Charleneland

  Deadly Ride

  Neighborhood Witch Committee

  Witchy Start

  Witchy Worries

  Saffron Diffley

  Crime and Retribution

  Witchy Fingers

  Witchy Trouble

  Witchy Hexations

  Witchy Possessions

  Witchy Riches

  Box Set 1 (Books 1-4)

  The Mysteries of Bell & Whitehouse

  One Spoonful of Trouble

  Two Scoops of Murder

  Three Shots of Disaster

  Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)

  A Twist of Wraith

  A Touch of Ghost

  A Clash of Spooks

  Box Set 2 (Books 4-6)

  The Stuffing of Nightmares

  A Breath of Dead Air

  An Act of Hodd

  Box Set 3 (Books 7-9)

  Standalone Novels

  When in Bruges

  Once Upon a Spy

  The Whiskered Spy

  The Ghost Who Came in from the Cold

  Enemy of the Tates

  Short Stories

  Felonies and Penalties (Saffron Diffley Short 1)

  Purrfect Santa (Mysteries of Max Short 1)

  Purrfect Christmas Mystery (Mysteries of Max Short 2)

  Purrfect Christmas Miracle (Mysteries of Max Short 3)

  Copyright © 2017 by Nic Saint. All rights reserved.

  Published by Puss in Print Publications.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval without permission in writing from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Editor: Chereese Graves.