Single Witch's Survival Guide Read Online Free PDF Page B

I was restored did he say, “It looks like we’re going to have quite a party.”
    “Can Jacques spare you?”
    “He already has.”
    Against his will, I thought. And not for the first time. “Won’t he need his costume?”
    A momentary scowl marred Anne Boleyn’s high brow. “He’ll find something else to wear, I’m sure. And someone else to wear it with.”
    “Neko! If you need to go—
    He shook his head and gestured at his gown. “This was a calculated risk. It was fifty/fifty whether Jacques was going to shout ‘Off with his head’ by the end of the party. And don’t get your hopes up. That isn’t code for some new bedroom game.”
    “Neko—
    “Forget about it.”
    His dismissive wave was charming, but I saw through it like a lace mantilla. I clutched his hands between both of mine. “Thank you.”
    He nodded once. And then, he tore off his fancy headdress. The scarlet gown was equipped with Velcro strips for a hasty getaway, and I steadily forbade myself from speculating about Ms. Boleyn’s intended disrobing during or after the evening’s now-canceled festivities.
    Neko wore his usual attire beneath the dress—a sleek black T-shirt and matching jeans that left nothing to the imagination. He draped his Tudor costume over the dressmaker’s dummy and stowed both in the corner. Dusting his hands together decisively, he stepped up to survey the food on the center island. His resulting sigh was gusty enough to shake the rafters of a lesser home. “You’re going to need a lot more than that,” he said.
    “Oh, will we?” David asked as he returned from the dining room. His voice was resignedly dry.
    “Bread,” Neko ordered. “That loaf over there. And a green salad—you have all the makings in the back of the fridge. I saw everything at lunch. Don’t forget the cheese either—the Saga Blue will be nice. And bring out the Irish butter, while you’re at it.”
    Spot came to stand beside my familiar, whining as if he understood the feast that was being composed. Neko stopped just short of snapping his fingers as he issued his commands. Under any other circumstances, David would have told him exactly what he could do with his Irish butter.
    But now David pulled the salad and cheese and butter from the fridge. And then he filled one of his handblown Riedel goblets with the whole milk we kept on hand solely to satisfy Neko’s cravings.
    My familiar took the glass with a flair before he whirled into the dining room to explain to Raven that she absolutely, positively could not sit beneath the painting on the far wall—the art would clash with the purple stripe in her hair. Even Tony was bemused as his witch was made to switch seats not once, not twice, but three times.
    David shook his head as he met my eyes. “You’re all right?” he asked, keeping his voice low enough not to steal attention back from Neko.
    “I’m fine.”
    “That was dangerous.”
    “I couldn’t have my magicarium getting off on the wrong foot! Not when Clara worked so hard to get my first students out here in the first place. I haven’t even had a chance to find out what my witches are capable of.”
    David’s smile was tight as he nodded toward Raven. “ That one is capable of a lot of trouble.”
    I shrugged. “Everyone’s trouble,” I said. “One way or another.”
    Before David could respond, Neko called out from the dining room. “David? We’re really going to need the camembert, to round out this meal. And the cheddar wouldn’t be a bad addition, either.”
    My warder rolled his eyes. “Yes,” he said to me as he turned toward the refrigerator. “Everyone is trouble.”
    I could tell he wanted to say more. He wanted to extract a promise from me, a pledge not to use any Word of Power ever again, at least not without proper arcane support. He wanted to protect me and keep me safe from any possible hint of danger in the future.
    Instead, he settled for brushing his hand down my arm, and then he turned to