What's a Witch to Do?: A Midnight Magic Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page A

forgive him. And me.
    Yeah. Right.
    “I won’t call Jason,” I say. “I’ll fix you up as best I can, you can stay here tonight, and tomorrow morning I’ll help you shift, okay?”
    “Thank you,” he says, finally releasing my arm and falling onto the bed. “Thank you.”
    “Welcome. I’ll be right back.” When I swing the door open and step into the hall, the girls pop out of their room. “Didn’t I tell you—ugh, never mind. Sophie, go upstairs to the attic. By the dressmaker’s doll there should be boxes labeled ‘Roman.’ Get me some clothes out of them. Cora, go downstairs to the kitchen and get me the silver duct tape out of the drawer.”
    The girls obey, and I go next door into my office. In a wooden holder are the vials of potions I made tonight. Two are to relieve pain and I take them both, plus the sturdiest birch branch I have before returning to my patient. “Who’s Roman?” Adam asks, I suppose to make conversation.
    “My daddy,” I say.
    Cora runs in with the duct tape. “This it?”
    “Yeah, thanks sweetie.”
    She hands it to me, then looks at Adam, studying him. “Hi.”
    Though I’m sure it kills him, he smiles at her. “Hi.”
    Mother’s daughter, no question. “Cora, bed. Now.”
    With a bright smile, she waves goodbye, and he does the same. “Thanks for helping,” he calls as she leaves.
    I pull the stopper out of the potion vial. “This is a sedative and pain reliever. It should work.” I help raise his head, feeling soft hair under my fingers, and pour it down. Then the other. “I don’t know how long it will take with your metabolism.”
    “Thank you.” He watches as I amass my tools for repair, eyes narrowing in confusion as I pull out streams of duct tape. “What’s that for?”
    “I need to immobilize your arm so the bones don’t shift. It’ll heal wrong, right?”
    “Yeah.”
    Sophie walks in, arms full of clothes, staring at Adam apprehensively. “Where should I put them?”
    “Top of the dresser.”
    She doesn’t want to come in, and when she does, her eyes never leave the interloper. He’s smiling though. “Thanks for the clothes. Sorry if I scared you guys.”
    She sets her bundle on the dresser. “I don’t get scared,” she says, face affixed with a scowl. She crosses her arms across her chest. “What happened to you?”
    “Sophie, go to bed and stay there this time or no TV for three days. I mean it.” Still glaring at Adam, she stalks out, shutting the door behind her. “Is the pain waning?”
    “A little.” He blinks slowly. Yeah, it’s working. “Don’t … don’t you want to know what happened too? You haven’t asked.”
    “I have enough troubles of my own without taking yours on. Sorry. I want to be involved as little as possible, okay?”
    “But you—” and he passes out. Score one for a super-fast meta-
bolism.
    First I set his arm with the branch and tape, then snip off his shirt. Though this isn’t the right time or place, I can’t help but notice that he has a nice chest in spite of the blood and bruises. Muscular and compact. After I wash the knife wound, I see he wasn’t lying; it’s not that deep but still oozes blood. I pack it with gauze, use all of my butterfly Band-Aids to close it, and cover it with a bandage. Hope it’ll keep until morning. When that’s over with, I rub burn cream onto his blistered wrists and wrap those too. He was held captive by a brutal bastard. If he finds us … no. Not going to happen. He said I wouldn’t get into more trouble. Wait. More trouble? What the hell did he mean by that? Crap.
    There’s little link between us. I mean, I didn’t even know he knew where I lived. I may have known him since I was seventeen, but we’ve barely spoken. He was always at the meetings or parties but off to the side in the background. In fact I noticed he’s always sort of avoided me. The few times I’d strike up a conversation, I’d either get a single-syllable answer or nervous smile.