Page 71 of Strike It Witch

“No, you don’t have to do either of those things. All you have to do is be yourself. Kind of.”

His lips peeled back, revealing razor-edged teeth. “I’m listening…”

Chapter

Eighteen

The rest of the week went by slower than the weekend before it.

I delivered Sexton’s artifact, took some lavender and a few charms to Beau, Bronwyn, and the café, and started a demon-grown belladonna seed in a small pot in a security-spelled area of the garden room.

Because I didn’t want to risk losing it, I used some soil I’d brought in from Sexton’s cemetery—with his permission—rather than any I had on the property. I’d had to carry the seed and pot in a pouch on my chest for the first forty-eight hours, but after that I was able to permanently leave it in the spelled area. It hadn’t sprouted, but I had all my fingers crossed that it would soon.

Saturday afternoon found me in my garden room relaxing in a folding chair beside the baby belladonna plant singing the chorus to “Lotta Love” by Nicolette Larson as I flipped through an herb magic book I’d picked up at Beau’s last year. I was on the hunt for a faster and more complete healing of head wounds spell—no particular reason.

It was a warm day, and I was wearing black-and-pink polka-dot cotton shorts, a black tank, and nothing else. My hair waspulled back and braided, and my face was bare. I hadn’t even put on lipstick. I was feeling casual and chill and centered.

Cecil let out a squeaky-trilling scream.

“What’s wrong?” I set the tome down and padded to the front of the garden room.

A brand new tablet computer lay face down on the tile floor.

“Where did this come from? Cecil, you’re not supposed to have unmonitored computer access, and you know exactly why.” I scooped up the computer and headed back to my chair. “So what if they cancelled your order of arecurve crossbow? Wait. What the hell? Did you hack my Amazon account again?” The gnome couldn’t write in English, but he could damn sure read it.

“Cecil?”

No response.

“We need to have a talk about the perils of recidivism. You can’t keep doing bad things." I looked around the room for the gnome and my gaze landed on the belladonna pot. I gasped. "Cecil, come here! Hurry!”

The seed had sprouted.

The gnome poked his purple hat out from around a pot of succulents. He squeaked and scurried up the leg of the table where the plant was.

Joy folded over me like a hug.The seed sprouted.I felt like a proud parent.

“Keep a close eye on him for the next few days, okay? We’re in the most fragile stage of his development.”

Cecil gave me a bland look.

“Fine. Sorry. Yes, I know I’m saying this to an expert. I’m just excited.” Tears itched behind my eyes. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a win like this. I needed it.”

The gnome chittered.

“You’re right. We both needed it. Teamwork.” I bent down and held up my index finger. He high-fived it. “Speaking of which, have you seen Fennel?”

Cecil shook his head. Pollen scattered everywhere.

“Probably napping on Ida’s porch again. She gives him tuna. We’ll tell him later.”

There was a knock on the garden room door.

I wasn’t expecting anyone except Ida, and she rarely knocked. Probably a tenant coming to tell me something was broken or worn out or something else bad. No matter what it was, I wouldn’t allow it to cancel out my happiness. This moment was too good to not enjoy it thoroughly.

Cecil made a grab for the tablet, and I snatched it back. “We’re returning this. My gratitude only extends so far. No hunting weapons.”

The gnome stamped his foot and shrieked at me.

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