The Witch and the Englishman Read Online Free PDF Page A

old fuddy-duddy who’s kind of creepy.”
    “ She’s more of a guide than a ghost, Sam. She knows what she’s doing and she’s teaching me to, you know, control what I am.”
    “ Well, there’s something about her that doesn’t sit right with me. Something that bothers me.”
    I suspected I knew what that something was and gave Sam access to my suspicion.
    “Maybe,” said Sam.
    “ There’s no maybe about it. She rejected you. In essence, she told you that you were not worthy to be the thing that we had been throughout many lifetimes. In effect, she cast you out of our little witch circle.”
    Sam said nothing. Her own husband had rejected her, too, and I knew that had scarred her, even to this day, and even though the man was quite dead.
    “It doesn’t mean she doesn’t still like you, Sam. It just means you can’t be, you know, a witch.”
    “ Maybe I don’t want to be a witch.”
    “ You don’t have to be a witch, Sam. You’re something different. Something very special.”
    “ Oh, bullshit. There’s a she-devil living inside me just waiting to take me over for all eternity. But thanks for trying.”
    “ Hey, I gave it my best shot.”
    Sam was silent, and so was I. My stomach, not so much. I needed some food...I also needed to know what I should do.
    Sam picked up on my thought, as usual. “I say...skip all the psychic woo-woo shit, skip Millicent’s advice, and get out of your own head. I say this: follow your heart.”
    “ I like that,” I said.
    “ So, what does your heart say, Allie?”
    “ It says to save him, no matter what.”
    “ Then do that.”
    “ And what if my heart is wrong?”
    “ We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
    “ Except,” I said, “I think I’m already halfway over it.”
     
     
    Chapter Seven
     
    “ Hi, this is Allison. Thank you for calling the Psychic Hotline. How can I help you see into the future?”
    “ There you are,” said a familiar voice.
    I set aside my laptop and sat forward on the couch, elbows resting on my knees. “How long did it take you this time?”
    “Fourth or fifth try.”
    “ Less than before,” I said.
    “ Things are looking up.”
    There was a chance that I was grinning like a schoolgirl. Conn had that effect on me. As I grinned, and as Conn thought up the next witty thing he had to say, two things happened: one, I linked up to him almost immediately; meaning, he and I were now deeply connected, although he didn’t know it. The second, of course, was that I lit a cigarette. Yes, I smoked. No, I wasn’t perfect. Yes, smoking helped calm my nerves. Hell, wouldn’t you smoke if you were me, seeing the dead, and being friends with vampires and werewolves?
    Not to mention, whenever Conn called...I just felt like lighting up. The way I liked to light up after sex. Of course, Conn and I had never had sex, or even phone sex...or had even met each other.
    Months ago, he had called the Psychic Hotline, and we had hit it off in a way that had startled me. Our connection had been immediate and strong, and he’d felt it, too. The mystery part was that I’d refused to see his face; yes, I could see him remotely, but I had refused to focus on his face. Well, all of his face. I’d stopped at his lips and jawline. That had been enough for me. Seeing too much of him just seemed like...cheating. Plus, I liked the idea that he remained a mystery. Mysteries were good. One didn’t always need immediate gratification.
    Anyway, since then, he had called me often, always waiting until he finally got patched through to me, often calling many dozens of times until he ended up with me. Then, we would talk for a long time...and rack up quite a bill in the process, since he was paying about $3.00 a minute. But, from what I had seen, he could more than afford a $3.00 a minute charge. But, until I met the man— if I met the man—he would remain a mystery. And Conn had been calling me now for, what, four or five months.
    “ Before I say