Page 26 of Twice Bitten

“You could always call Gertrude.”

“No,” I snapped. The absolute last thing I needed was my mom’s nosy friend over here asking too many questions. I liked Gertrude, but she was best taken in small doses.

Very small doses.

Since Mom went missing, I had a standing monthly lunch with her. Gertie pried way too much and had tried multiple times to invite herself over, but I’d demurred every single time. The woman could be a barnacle sometimes, impossible to remove without using extreme force. I kept her at arm’s length as much as possible. Mom always said she meant well, but there was something about the older witch that rubbed me the wrong way.

I wasn’t nosy. Life was too short to be nosy. I was curious, a trait that could be just as dangerous, but I wasn’t interested in people. I was curious about subjects—new spells, new recipes, pop culture, upcoming movies, and especially new books.

It was not possible for me to care any less about what Gertrude or anyone else did on a daily basis. I had no idea where she lived and only had a vague notion of where her crystal shop was.

Maybe this is why I have no friends, a voice in the back of my head whispered.

“She’s a witch. She’d have answers for you,” Edmund reminded me.

“Yes, but at what cost?” I groaned and got up to refill my mug. On my way to the coffee pot, I peeked into the mud room, relieved to see the colored tubs empty of packages. At least one thing had gone right.

I hadn’t checked my email since the day before yesterday. Heavens knew how many orders had come in during my little adventure.

“She’s quite knowledgeable.”

I stilled and glanced up at the ceiling, squinting with suspicion. “How do you know?” I’d vented to Edmund about the woman but never went into much detail.

Edmund sighed. “Honestly. Must you question everything? These days you can find all kinds of information about someone just by accessing the internet.” He scoffed. “It’s not like I could invite her over for a tea party and a gab session. You really are the most paranoid person I know.”

I rolled my eyes and fixed another cup of coffee. “I’m the only person you know.”

“Gertrude has a podcast.”

The spoon I held clattered to the counter. “She has awhat?”

“A podcast,” Edmund enunciated very slowly, like I was a toddler learning how to read. “She and her other witch friends discuss current politics, witchcraft, and pop culture. It’s quite entertaining. You should give it a listen sometime.”

I rubbed my forehead, wishing I could will the headache away. “I’ll pass.”

“Podcasts are a wonderful way to keep up with what’s going on in the supernatural world.”

“I’m aware,” I said dryly. Edmund must have known I preferred true crime podcasts over ones speaking on current events. I listened to them every time I cleaned the house or when I was crafting. Nothing like a little murder to put you in a relaxed mood. Though I shunned current news cycles and was careful about media I consumed, there was something abouttrue crime that made it worth a thorough sageing afterward. I skipped over cases involving children and unsolved crimes. I wanted straightforward cases with guilty verdicts at the end. If justice is served, count me in.

“And a good way to make friends you have something in common with,” Edmund continued.

“Don’t make me unplug the Wi-Fi,” I warned.

Edmund meant well, but his gentle nudging to have more company over at the house was getting on my nerves.

“You need more people in your life than me,” he said softly.

I flicked my fingers at him. “Things are perfectly fine.”

“Uh huh. You running into the house after being attacked and kidnapped is totally normal.”

“That has only happened once,” I said primly. Another sip of coffee and I wrinkled my nose. What the hell was wrong with this brew? It tasted terrible.

“Did you switch the coffee?” I realized how ridiculous the question was as soon as I asked it.

“Yes, with all two of my hands, and ability to drive a vehicle to the grocery store to get new coffee. Easy peasy.”

“No need to get pissy.” I poured the rest of the coffee down the drain. “It tastes weird today.”