The Professor Woos The Witch
“You want a beer?” He pulled the fridge open. “Because I do. Definitely.” He held up two cold bottles.
“Since I’m missing my wine, sure. Plus, it goes good with pizza.”
He twisted the tops off both bottles and handed one to her as he sat down, his fingers well away from hers. They each took a drink, his slightly longer. When he set his bottle down, he shook his head. “Something is happening to me.”
“So you said. What kind of something?”
“I…don’t know.” He swallowed. “I’m having these…visions.”
She knew her facial expression probably wasn’t helping the situation, but to hear a guy who flat-out refused to believe in witches say he was having visions was pretty jaw-dropping. “What kind of visions?”
More head shaking. “Like I’m flying. And there are always birds in them. Or the sound of birds.”
She pursed her lips. “I don’t know what that means. Wait. You said always. When did they start?”
He let out a breath. “The visions started when you handed me the mirror…”
“I sense a but coming.”
He ran a hand through his dark hair, his eyes troubled as he nodded. “I’ve been having dreams like that since I was a kid.”
That was a little concerning. She sat back, scrunching up her nose. “Okay, that’s weird.”
He flicked his gaze at her. “That’s not helpful.”
“I’m sure.”
“Maybe we should go back to the attic and take a look at that mirror again.”
“I already did that.”
“And?”
“Nothing. But when you touched me in the driveway, it happened again.”
“That doesn’t mean these visions aren’t connected to the mirror.”
His brows bent. “It doesn’t?”
“No. If that’s where the visions started, it could definitely be involved.” She put her hands on the table. “You mind if I run up there and have a look at the mirror?”
“Be my guest.” He stood. “I guess I should go with you.”
“Actually, no.”
“No?”
“Just trust me on this.” Despite opening up about the visions, she wasn’t convinced Cole was ready for the full-on witch experience, and she wanted to try a little summoning spell while she was in the attic. Without him going all Judgy McJudgerson.
“Okay.” He looked relieved and sat back down.
She got up. “I won’t be too long.”
He nodded and sipped his beer. “I’ll order the pizza. Any toppings you hate that I should know about?”
“Pineapple. Don’t go there.”
“Got it.”
She headed upstairs. She added residential elevator to the list of things the house could use. At least the two flights would count as some kind of cardio.
The attic was exactly as she remembered it. Big, dusty and crammed with all kinds of witchy things. She poked around. Some really great witchy things. Maybe Cole would let her mom and sisters come over to help catalog this stuff.
She went to the shelf with the mirror and picked up the scrying glass. She turned it over, tested its weight. There was nothing unusual about it. She put it back.
Her magic had been rather cooperative lately. She hoped that would hold out for her summoning spell. It was very possible Gertrude had left some unfinished or lingering magic behind.
She stood in the middle of the room and spread her arms out. “Any spells that remain undone, show yourself in a beam of sun.”
She turned slowly, but not a single thing was illuminated.
“I didn’t leave any loose ends.”
Pandora spun toward the unfamiliar female voice.
Behind her stood a ghost. Stood maybe wasn’t the right word. Hovered was more correct. The ghost was about five feet tall, eighty years old and had a helmet of cotton-candy-pink hair that matched the pantsuit she was wearing.
Pandora took a wild guess. “Gertrude?”
“One and the same. You the new lady of the house?”
“No, I’m just visiting.” Pandora had seen her share of supernatural weirdness in her time, but this was the topper.
Gertrude nodded. “You sleeping with the disbelieving man candy?”
“I—no.”
“You should be. He’s got it going on for a normie.” Gertrude tapped a finger against her chin. “Technically, he’s not a complete normie, though.”
“He’s not?”
Gertrude’s eyes narrowed. “Is he some relation to my Ulysses?”
Pandora nodded. “Distant nephew.”
Gertrude slapped her thigh. “I knew it. Same eyes. Plus, I can tell a familiar when I see one.”
“A familiar?”
“I tried to give him a hint.” Gertrude wiggled her fingers at the bookshelf on the other side of the room, and a narrow book slid out and floated over. “But he’s got a classic case of denial going on.”
The book bobbed in the air in front of Pandora. She plucked it free and read the cover. “Concerning Familiars?”
Gertrude waved her hand at Pandora as if assessing her. “Your magic’s a little wobbly on a good day, isn’t it?”
Pandora lifted her chin. “I do my best.”
“Oh, it’s not your fault, dearie.” Gertrude levitated so she could look down her nose at Pandora in a very conspiratorial way. “But around the stud muffin, it works just fine, am I right?”