Witchily (Perks of Being Paranormal #3)

Chapter 1

Three years ago

Shanna stared at the shattered whiskey glass on the floor, wondering if this would bring more or less bad luck than a broken mirror.

But what was another seven years for her, anyway?

“You can certainly try,” she murmured at the glass and bent down, carefully sweeping it back onto the tray with a napkin. At least in her little corner of the kitchen, no one had noticed the mishap yet.

“O’Connell!” Maggie’s voice—powerful for her petite build—preceded her before she rounded the corner. “You gotta hurry up or we’ll be in the weeds. We’ve got five minutes for the shots before they serve the chasers, and—oh, shit.”

Shanna didn’t need to understand what Maggie was saying (which was good because half the time, she didn’t) to know what the problem was. Shanna.

It was always Shanna.

She looked up at her boss, trying an apologetic smile. “I’ll be right there.”

With a sigh, Maggie sped off to her next task. “And don’t forget the bev naps!” were her last words before the maze of the hotel’s restaurant ate her.

“Bev naps, bev naps …” Shanna deposited the tray with the broken glass on the counter and turned in a circle.

What were bev naps, again? Oh—the little napkins she had to put under every glass.

And they were stored … in that overhead cabinet.

She opened it and scanned the neatly arranged items: three columns of glass bowls, unopened boxes of half-inch decorative balls whose purpose she didn’t particularly wish to ponder, and, on the highest shelf—Maggie’s beloved bev naps.

Shanna rose to her tiptoes, her fingers barely skirting the plastic wrap of the napkin package. An inch more—she cinched the corner between her fingers—and—

She wasn’t sure exactly what she’d done wrong this time, but her foot slipped, and the next she knew, the napkins were fluttering around her like banknotes tossed into the air by one of the lucky gamblers outside.

Only in this case, nobody but Shanna would scramble to pick them up as they landed everywhere.

On the counter. On the floor. On Shanna’s head and shoulders.

She blew to get one off her nose, and it slowly sailed down to join the others.

What else did she expect?

She lifted her hand and jingled the silver charm bracelet around her wrist. “It’s you, isn’t it?” she said to the pentacle charm. “So much for balance and protection.”

Well, no use complaining now. She had to get this mess sorted out before Maggie came storming back. Spare napkins would be held in the dry storage, and she had to check on it, anyway. She swept the napkin escapees into a pile and headed for the pantry.

Her phone rang halfway to it. “Hi, Gran,” she said as she picked up. “I’m a little busy at the moment.”

“Oh, no,” her grandmother said. “What did you do now?”

“Why do you immediately assume it’s me?”

“Because it’s you, honey. And because I did a reading.”

Shanna suppressed a sigh and opened the storage room door. Whimpers and a mad scrambling of paws along the floor greeted her, and a small golden fur ball torpedoed itself into her, barely giving Shanna the time to clench the phone between her ear and her shoulder.

“I know, baby.” She kneeled, petted the puppy and kissed his snout. “I’m sorry. I’m almost done, I promise.”

“Oh, I see what kind of fun you’re having,” Gran said in a suggestive tone. “When in Vegas …”

Shanna’s cheeks grew warm. “Gran. I’m talking to Jinx.”

“You brought your dog to your job?”

Guess Gran didn’t see that from the reading. “It’s only for tonight! The dogsitter canceled. I called Mrs. Carrera, but she’s at the hospital with a broken hip.”

“What about your neighbors, that lovely couple?”

“Marlin said he could watch Jinx, and we were all set, but then Marlene went into labor. Three weeks too early. Then I arranged it with Asher—you know, the kid next door—and an hour before I was supposed to leave, the ceiling in my living room started leaking. We think a pipe burst in George’s apartment upstairs, but George isn’t home, and our landlord had an urgent meeting out of state, so nobody can get in to fix it.

Gods know if they’ll get to it before the ceiling gets soaked entirely and George’s bathtub falls onto my couch. ”

“Do you think that’s likely to happen?” Gran said with a trace of doubt.

Shanna let the silence speak.

“Point taken,” Gran said.

“Besides,” Shanna continued, “Jinx is a good boy, and he has plenty of water and food and toys in the pantry—”

“He’s in the pantry?”

“Not the food one!” Shanna struggled with her phone as Jinx jumped around her, his impressively powerful tail trying its best to create a tornado between the boxes of supplies.

“If anyone sees a dog in a restaurant—”

“It’ll be fine, Gran. My shift is over in an hour, and then we’ll find another place to stay. Now, did you call me for something specific?”

“Oh, yes.” Something rustled on Gran’s side. “Like I said, the reading.”

“Hopefully it said I’ll find a better job soon.” Not that she didn’t appreciate being a server; if anything, she admired them for their swiftness and precision. The exact two reasons why she shouldn’t be in this profession.

“Well …”

“Gran!”

“The good news is, one thing will go right tonight.”

Shanna frowned, sedating Jinx by giving him scritches on the lower back—his favorite area. “What’s the bad news?”

“Only one thing will go right tonight.”

“O’Connell!”

Shanna froze. Still kneeling, she secured Jinx with one hand and, shutting her eyes, turned slowly. She peeked out of one eye.

Maggie stood a few steps away, legs parted, hands at her hips, the pose of a superhero finally catching the villain.

Shanna firmly held Jinx so he wouldn’t run to Maggie and slobber all over her.

“Shanna?” Gran said on the phone.

Shanna gulped. “I think we found one of the things that won’t go right.”

***

“Which is why with our latest model, Ariose 14A, you can choose what device you want.” With clear and deliberate movements, Simon unfolded the smartphone, turning the screen tablet-sized.

Beyond his limelit spot on the stage, the hotel’s auditorium was cast in shadow, the exclusive invitees to Aries’s conference collectively holding their breath in the dark.

Only an occasional camera flashed, creating memories for the future.

Oh, the new Ariose model? Yeah, I was there when they unveiled it—Simon Montague himself!

that person would boast the next year, showing the pictures to their friends.

“But that’s not all.” Simon folded the phone back into its regular form.

“I’ve been showing this bad boy to you for, what, half an hour now?

Let’s see how the battery is faring.” The screen behind him changed to a live feed from the phone.

Simon opened the camera and turned away from the crowd, laughing along with them as the preview of the selfie he was about to take showed up on the big screen.

“You’ll notice the battery is at eighty-seven percent.

Any of you remember what it was at the beginning?

” When silence followed, Simon chuckled and looked toward the big screen.

“Luckily for you, we have proof.” The screen split to show the current feed next to a screen capture taken half an hour ago, showing the phone battery at eighty-five percent.

A few gasps and murmurs followed.

“That’s right,” Simon said. “While I was actively using it, it didn’t lose power.

It gained it. How? Not to spill any secrets—I think the boss wouldn’t be too happy—” The audience laughed as he put a hand to his chest. “But let’s say, much like an average Californian, our phone is also adept at surfing the waves. ”

After answering a few more questions, Simon wrangled himself out of the reporters’ grasp, enjoying the embrace of the low-lit hallway as he popped one more button on his shirt.

Everett ran from the side, falling into step with him. “Well done, my boy. As always, you impressed, satisfied, and still left them wanting more.”

“That’s why they’re not so different from an average date.” Simon cast a side glance at his CFO. Unsurprisingly, Everett didn’t crack a smile.

“InTech has been messaging us about the shares.” Everett pulled out his phone. “If you can confirm what we agreed on—”

“No.” Simon cracked his neck to relieve some tension from the presentation. “We’re not buying their stocks yet.”

“But you said—”

“I checked Maguire’s new model before it goes out to reviewers. It’s not good, and on top of that, he made a stupid statement about the privacy of their system in an article. Watch it; they’ll be down by four percent next Monday. We wait until then.”

Everett’s eyebrows lifted ever so slightly in admiration.

“For now, tell them we’re mulling it over.” Simon continued to march down the hallway. “But I would like to speak with Oskett’s representative. We’ll discuss it when I’m back on Wednesday. Anything else?”

“Not for tonight.”

“Good. I’ll see you Wednesday.” With a further quickening of his pace, he left Everett in the dust. Jogging down the staircase, Simon arrived at the main space of the hotel: the bustling, lively casino with the famous Golden Luck Fountain on one side and a music lounge and a bar on the other.

He stopped, closed his eyes, and breathed.

Peace.

No more reporters, no more presentations; not for a few days.

God, he needed to unwind—although this hotel probably wasn’t the best place for it.

At least a few people were bound to know Aries had a presentation here tonight, and some reporter might fly in and find him at the bar. So, where could he …

“Jinx! No. No, come back!”

The crowd gathered around one of the gambling tables parted, gasps and yelps following a small fur ball—a golden retriever puppy—as it zoomed through the massive room, whizzing between chairs and tables and people like a skier on a slalom track.

Simon stepped onto the collision path, kneeled, and caught the puppy. “Hey there, buddy. Take it easy.”