It Takes a Witch: A Wishcraft Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page B

grab some seats, girls. We’ll have to continue this conversation another time, Alex.”
    “It’s
Alexandra
. And trust me, we will continue this talk. After tonight, everyone will start taking me more seriously.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Harper asked with a who-do-you-think-you-are edge.
    One sharply pointed eyebrow rose. With a note of triumph in her voice, Alex said, “It means that you’ll finally have to accept that I’m one of you. I’ve finally learned the truth of my past.”
    Ve rolled her eyes, though I noticed the shadow of worry on her face. She said, “Have a nice night, Alex,” and herded us toward the other side of the room, where I spotted Nick Sawyer leaning against a bookcase. He had been watching us.
    Harper whispered, “What did she mean? She can’t possibly know.…”
    “Hush, now.” Ve looked around. “She was fishing for information—that’s all—hoping you’d slip up, since you’re new in the village. You must be careful with Alex,” Ve said in a fierce whisper as she claimed a seat and smoothed her dress. “She’s so intent on learning the secrets of the Craftthat she’s not cognizant of those she hurts in the process. Now, I need a drink before I overheat.” Her gaze settled on the refreshment table. “Punch will have to do until I can get my hands on something stronger.”
    Smiling, I said, “I’ll get it for you.”
    Harper sat next to Ve as I headed for the punch bowl. A good-looking man stood at the refreshment table, fussing with miniature desserts laid out on a silver tray. Tiny cheesecakes, bite-sized cake balls, itty-bitty pies, and delicate baklava cups.
    Suddenly, I was starving.
    “Try one,” the man said, holding up the tray.
    I glanced at him and tried to hide my sudden shock at the sight of raised welts covering half his face.
    Not soon enough, apparently, because the man sighed. “I’m not contagious. I let Alexandra try a new lotion on me. There was a bit of a reaction.”
    “A bit,” I downplayed. Absently, I wondered what the plague looked like, and I fought the instinct to take a giant step backward. “Does it hurt?”
    “It’s itchy and burns a bit, but really it hurts only my vanity. I’m Evan Sullivan—I own the Gingerbread Shack. We specialize in miniature desserts.” He held up the tray again. “Are you Darcy or Harper?”
    I took a tiny cheesecake. “Darcy.” I popped the cake in my mouth and moaned. “So good. Sullivan? Are you related to Starla?”
    Perky blond-haired, blue-eyed Starla Sullivan was the owner of Hocus-Pocus Photography. I looked around but didn’t see her. I did, however, spot village lawyer Marcus Debrowski in deep conversation with Alexandra across the room. Business or pleasure? I couldn’t help wondering.
    “Thank you,” Evan said, tipping his head. “Starla’s my twin. You’ve met, then?”
    “Technically, our dogs met first.”
    “Have mercy, you met the beast.”
    The “beast” was a two-pound bichon frise mix named Twink. “He’s ferocious.” I ladled punch into two cups. “Is Starla here tonight?”
    About my age, Evan was average height and slight in build. His blond wavy hair was cut short and gelled to stay in place. His clothes were impeccably pressed, his shoes shined, his tie neatly knotted. He was adorable.
    “Working. She had an event to photograph. Ve’s been talking about you nonstop for weeks now,” he said. “I was beginning to think you and your sister were figments of her imagination.”
    “We’ve been lying low, trying to get adjusted. We’re not exactly the social sort.”
    He grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. “That will change now that you’re living here. I guarantee it. Starla will have you signed up on committees with her before you know it. The Midsummer Dance
is
coming up in a couple of weeks.”
    I thought about Harper at a village dance and knew she’d be suddenly sick as a dog that day to avoid going. “The dance is a big deal around here,