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

Hell, I accidently bumped into him one time and he tensed up and pulled away like I had a flesh-eating disease. I figured he was shy or didn’t like witches. But he did change my tire that one time.
    It was two years ago the day after the pack Christmas party. I’d gotten up early to drive home, and of course I had a flat tire. It was cold, raining, I’d forgotten an umbrella, and I couldn’t get the bolts off. Just my luck. Everyone was still asleep, and I sure as hell didn’t want to wake them. I like the werewolves in the Eastern Pack, which is why I go to the party every year, but grumpy werewolves are never a good thing. Shivering and cursing at my car was a better option. After about ten minutes, Adam strolled out with an umbrella and blanket for me and changed my tire. I made small talk about the party but was once again treated to almost silence. He handed me the tire iron, gave a quick nod, and ran back inside without another word.
    We are so even now.
    When I’m confident he won’t bleed out, I toss a blanket over him and return to my office to start on the potion. Transmogrification, or shape-shifting, is one of the most complicated and dangerous potions. The ingredients have to be perfect in both proportion and freshness or it won’t work—or worse, will half work. Think Jeff Goldblum in The Fly. I’d do a simple counter-spell, but I don’t know which spell to counter.
    It takes an hour to assemble the base, but I have to wait another eight hours for the concoction to simmer before adding the catalyst. By the time I canvass the house again, retrieve the gun, check on my three slumbering charges, change out of my bloodstained pajamas, and get back into bed, it’s two a.m. I pass out five seconds after my head hits the pillow.
Get the werewolf out of my damn house
    The sound of voices and laughter draws me out of a dreamless sleep. Normally it’s the Captain meowing for his breakfast that gets me up, but he’s not in his usual spot. I check the clock. 8:47 a.m. Crap, it’s almost time to finish the potion. Oh, I really hope Adam didn’t die in the night. Way things are going, it wouldn’t surprise me.
    Cora’s high-pitched giggle echoes through the house. Then another. I pull my tired body out of bed and shuffle into the hall. “My favorite is Sandy. She knows kung-fu,” Cora says.
    I step into the guest bedroom, a little taken aback by the sight. A much-improved Adam sits up in bed, Cora right beside him, and Sophie in the rocking chair in the corner, all eating cereal and watching cartoons. “Morning,” I say.
    “Aunt Mona, Adam watches SpongeBob too,” Cora says.
    “Does he now?”
    “It’s the one show all the kids in the pack agree on,” he says sheepishly.
    “And he likes Lucky Charms,” Cora says. “I brought him breakfast in bed!”
    “That’s very sweet of you,” I say.
    “He’s feeling better,” Sophie says, lacking her sister’s enthusiasm.
    “I can see that.”
    “Pretty sure it was the Lucky Charms that did it,” he says to Cora, who giggles again.
    Our guest is quite the lady charmer. “Okay girls, I gotta check his bandages. Why don’t you finish breakfast downstairs?”
    Cora pouts but climbs off the bed, milk sloshing onto the bedspread. It’s a goner after the blood, so I don’t say anything. After they leave, I shut the door.
    “They’re great girls,” Adam says.
    I take the bowl off of his lap before lifting his shirt. “Thank you.” His bandage is soaked through with blood. “It hasn’t stopped bleeding.”
    “When I change it should heal.”
    I give him the once over, examining his face and chest as he watches me. His eye isn’t swollen anymore, the gash in his head is pink, and all the bruises are yellow. “You’re looking good. You’re damn lucky.” I stand from the bed. “The potion will be ready soon. I just need to get the final ingredient from you.” I take the scissors from the first-aid kit and clip off a few strands of his