by Nic Saint
I told him not to worry about it. I knew he’d been under the influence of the merman, just like the others, and hadn’t been himself. What had worried me, though, was that he’d come after me with a hatchet that night, which told me that deep down he harbored a resentment that he hadn’t expressed.
And as I thought about this now, Gran turned to me and shook her head.
“No, he doesn’t, honey.”
I frowned. “Who doesn’t what?” I asked, bewildered.
“Clive doesn’t resent you. Quite the contrary. He likes you very much.”
It should have surprised me that Gran knew exactly what I’d been thinking but it didn’t. She always does that, so we’re used to it by now.
“So why did he attack me then?” I asked. I darted a quick look at the others, but they were all discussing the letter King George III had written.
“A proud man sometimes struggles with the powerful attraction he feels toward a woman,” Gran explained. “It annoys him, because he misinterprets it as a weakness, and subconsciously blames the woman for this so-called weakness on his part. Clive likes you and at the same time resents you for it.”
I stared at her. “That’s just wackadoodle stuff.”
She smiled. “It’s the way the male mind works. Better get used to it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Never,” I solemnly declared.
Just then, Skip walked up with a hopeful grin, carrying a tray of freshly baked cookies. Like the last few batches he’d tried his hand at, they looked pretty horrible. Shapeless and with a weird color. When I took a bite, risking my teeth, they were as tough and tasteless as the others. You had to give him points for effort, though, and for not giving up without a fight.
“What are you talking about, Strel?” asked Edie.
“I’ll never get into a serious relationship,” I told her. “Men are nuts.”
Skip’s face fell. “How can you say that?” he asked, visibly perturbed.
“Because it’s true. Men are all crazy.” My blanket statement drew protestations from the men, except for Pierre, who said, “Well, you’re definitely right about a lot of men. Crazy is the word that comes to mind.”
He was obviously thinking about Yehudi Brevity and his killing buddies, but I gave him a smile anyway, and said emphatically, “Thank you, Pierre.”
“Does that mean our date is off?” he asked now.
“No, we’re still on. You’re not a man, Pierre. You’re a friend.”
“Thank you. I guess,” he said, a little surprised.
Gran took a nibble from one of Skip’s cookies and said, ever so nicely, “These are just great, Skip, though there is still room for improvement.”
"Thanks, Cassie," he said gratefully, directing annoyed glances at Pierre and me. He obviously didn't like me hooking up with the guy.
“You know what?” Sam asked. “Let’s all go out together. Me and Edie, Pierre and Strel and Stien and Skip. We’ll make it a triple date.”
“Exchange Skip for Spear and I’m your girl,” said Stien.
Judging from Sam’s grimace, this didn’t go over well. If the merman had still been active, I’m sure it wouldn’t have taken much to nudge Sam to go after Spear with a hatchet. But luckily for the lawyer, the danger had passed. Sam might not like Spear, but at least he would never kill him. I hoped.
“Exchange me for Pierre and I’m your man,” said Skip hopefully, which drew a small smile from Pierre.
“Let’s just exchange Strel for Cassie and I’ll be your man,” he said graciously, not wanting to create trouble between himself and Skip.
“Exchange Pierre for me and I’m your man,” said Gresham now, which elicited a sweet smile from Gran.
“Why don’t we all go out together?” she suggested. “Let’s make it one big party and put all this treasure hunting nonsense behind us once and for all.”
“You’ve got a date,” said Gresham, Pierre, Skip and Sam simultaneously, and we all laughed.
We might be witches, but at least we don’t have to use witchcraft to attract guys. They seem to be drawn to us of their own accord. And I suddenly wondered what would happen if I made a love spell. A spell to draw the right kind of guy to me. Not the nutty kind, like most men seemed to be, according to Gran, but a sweet, handsome, intelligent, strong, wise and gentle kind of guy. In other words, the perfect man. And as these thoughts entered my mind, I could already see Gran shaking her head at me reprovingly.
“Don’t do it, Strel,” she muttered. “Don’t you dare.”
I shrugged. “Why not? What’s the harm in trying?”
“That’s the way I attracted your grandfather,” she hissed. “And look what happened to him!”
“What happened to him?” I asked, curious. She’d never told us the story of how our grandfather had died.
But she pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Let’s just say it wasn’t pretty.”
“Oh, come on, Gran,” I pleaded. “Tell us the story of how you and Grandpa met.”
“Yeah, and how he died,” added Edie, sitting up now.
Even Ernestine put down her book. “Yeah, tell us. I really want to know.”
But Gran simply stared at us for a long beat, and then finally shook her head. “No,” she said with surprising finality. “That’s a story for another time.”
THE END
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Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)
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A Clash of Spooks
Box Set 2 (Books 4-6)
The Stuffing of Nightmares
A Breath of Dead Air
An Act of Hodd
Box Set 3 (Books 7-9)
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Between a Ghost and a Spooky Place
Public Ghost Number One
Witchy Fingers
Witchy Trouble
Witchy Hexations
Witchy Possessions
Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)
Witchy Riches
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The Ghost Who Came in from the Cold
Tate-à-Tate
Enemy of the Tates
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About Nic
Nic Saint is the pen name for writing couple Nick and Nicole Saint. They’ve penned 50+ novels in the romance, cat sleuth, middle grade, suspense, comedy and cozy mystery genres. Nicole has a background in accounting and Nick in political science and before being struck by the writing bug the Saints worked odd jobs around the world (including massage therapist in Mexico, gardener in Italy, restaurant manager in India, and Berlitz teacher in Belgium).
When they’re not writing they enjoy Christmas-themed Hallmark movies (whether it’s Christmas or not), all manner of pastry, comic books, a daily dose of yoga (to limber up those limbs), and spoiling their big red tomcat Tommy.
@nicsaintauthor
nicsaintauthor
www.nicsaint.com
Copyright © 2017 by Nic Saint. All rights reserved.
Published by Puss in Print Publications.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.