Witches Protection Program Read Online Free PDF

in the mirror morphed, the nose delicately flaring as sparkling eyes narrowed. Baby Fat’s manicured nails touched her now -porcelain skin. “That’s better.”
    “Agreed,” the mirror answered.
    “So, can you tell me where this is all going?” she asked the mirror.
    “You mean at work, Baby? I only do hair, skin, and nails. You know that.”
    “Yeah, I know that.” Junie shrugged. “That’s not going to do me a whole lot of good. Time to make some stew.”
    Junie winked, then went into her kitchen, pulling out a huge, dented aluminum pot. Pleasant domestic sounds of water running and clattering utensils filled the kitchen. Soon, the whole house smelled of a home -cooked meal. Luna jumped onto the counter, her yowls filling the room. Junie pointed her knife as she answered her pet.
    “I know. He was an asshole.”
    The cat meowed for a long minute. Junie cocked her head. “I called Alastair as soon as I got out of work. You think I waited too long?” The cat growled from deep in its throat. She pulled her pen from her apron, fingering the worn wood of her wand. “I know it’s weak, but at least it’s Davina,” she told the cat.
    The cat spat, then leaped off the counter to leave the room in a huff.
    “I ain’t afraid, Luna.” She paused, taking a deep drag on her cigarette. “I mean, not much.”
    While the mirror in the parlor reflected back a slender, beautiful woman, in the harsh light of the kitchen window, anybody could see Baby Fat’s wrinkled visage. She poured liquid into the big pot, stirring slowly until her craggy face could be seen on the surface of the bubbling stew. Rooting through assorted jars and vials, she added ingredients in the simmering stock, watching images form to replace hers. A young blond man with a close -cropped military cut and a dark -haired girl. It was a witch girl —Junie knew her. Alastair’s chubby build raced over the eddies and whirlpools that simmered back at her. Luna meowed loudly. “I know,” Junie replied. “I was thinking I needed that too.” She reached high over her head and dumped an entire box of white powder into the pot, watching it circle until it disappeared into the boiling mess. The room turned phosphorus shades of green. Her face was illuminated by the noxious contents of the pot. A fuzzy image of a head materialized. “Turn around, turn around…” Junie urged. The head rotated, its features vague. Junie gasped, blinking twice, a knock on the door breaking the spell.
    They rapped again. Junie cursed. She wasn’t sure, she just wasn’t sure of the face. She’d have to recreate the brew to get a better look.
    Wes wrinkled his nose at the odors filling the cramped hallway. There was no air to breathe. A short, frumpy woman smoking a cigarette cracked the door to peek outside.
    “Alastair.” Her voice was deep with a strong Brooklyn accent. “Who’s that?” she asked as she opened the door. She poked her head out to scan the corridor. “You followed?”
    “Baby Fat.” Alastair’s voice was friendly. He left his umbrella at the door. “What am I, a rookie? This is my new partner.” He walked confidently into the living room, stopping at a large, dense -looking mirror dominating the cramped space. He leaned forward, his white teeth showing with a pleasant smile, stroking his gray goatee. “He’s the rookie,” he said, gesturing to Wes.
    “I am not,” Wes said.
    “He’s greener than a banana just plucked off a banana tree.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Wes asked, slightly off -balance as a black cat twirled itself between his legs. He could feel the vibrations of its purring.
    “Faithless jade,” Alastair told the cat, whose bright green eyes glared at him. He turned to the older woman. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
    “I told you, good things come to those who wait.” Junie waved them into a cramped kitchen. There was a table the size of a postage stamp, with an old -fashioned oilcloth