Free Third Time's a Charm (Halloween LaVeau) by Rose Pressey Page B

everything always had to be in its designated spot.
    “Hello, are you here?” I called out.
    My mother peeked out from behind the curtain that concealed the back storeroom. At five foot one with blonde hair, my mother and I looked a lot alike. People sometimes confused us for sisters. My mother wore the store’s signature polka-dotted apron over her white sweater and black and blue jeans. 
    At least she had both eyebrows today. I’d forever scarred her by singeing one of them off in a minor cupcake-related spell gone wrong. She used a pencil to draw her eyebrows on, but that process wasn’t without its problems. Usually after a stressful or particularly hot day, she’d end up with a missing eyebrow because she’d accidentally wiped it off. So my witchcraft had caused her some distress over the years, bless her heart. She saved money on wax treatments and tweezers though.
    “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. What’s wrong?” my mother asked as she hurried from behind the curtain.
    I looked at Annabelle. “How the heck does she do that?”
    Annabelle shrugged her shoulders. “Hi, Annette!”
    The greeting didn’t distract my mother from her mission. She had a strange knack for knowing when something was wrong.
    “See, I knew there was something wrong. At least you didn’t try to deny it this time,” my mother said with the wave of her finger.
    “How do you know something’s wrong?” I asked.
    My mother quirked her carefully drawn-on eyebrow; she’d gotten pretty good at drawing on her eyebrows after this many years. “I can sense the distress around you. You cast a spell, didn’t you? What went wrong? Oh, it’s really bad this time, isn’t it? Not that the other times haven’t been bad, because they have been really bad. So bad that I wouldn’t think it possible that you could do any magic that sucked any worse.”
    I scowled. “Are you finished?”
    “Let me sit down for this,” she said, holding her chest.
    My mother didn’t need to remind me that my witchcraft was lacking. I released a deep breath and braced myself to tell her about the coven members.
    “Okay, you’re right. There is something that I need to tell you. Something did happen last night. Well, a lot of somethings. First, a man showed up. His name is Giovanni St. Clair and he said that he’s the true owner of the Book of Mystics,” I said.
    “What does that mean?” Her face turned white.
    “It means that he believes he is the leader of the Underworld,” I said.
    “How is that possible? You have the book. I’d say that is pretty cut and dry.” She wiped her forehead and came dangerously close to eliminating the right eyebrow.
    I pointed at my mother’s forehead to remind her to be careful, then said, “He said some nonsense about the true owner being able to add a spell. He said his mother added a spell to the book and Nicolas’ mother never added a spell.”
    “And obviously you’ve never added a spell,” my mother said, grabbing her wand and waving it over the potion she’d been concocting.
    Annabelle chuckled and I scowled at both of them.
    “Sorry. I couldn’t help myself,” Annabelle said.
    I waved my hand. “Whatever. You all know I’ve performed bad magic in the past, but you can’t say that I haven’t improved.”
    My mother nodded. “That’s true. So what are you going to do? What can I do to help?”
    I shrugged. “I guess I need to find out if what he says is true. But it’s looking more and more likely. How else can I explain the fact that there really is a spell in the book that his mother added?”
    My mother’s eyes widened. “So there really is a spell in the book? How do you know?”
    Now for the hardest part; I’d have to tell her about the coven. “Well, I don’t know that his mother added it, but…”
    She must have read my expression because she said, “Oh, no , there’s more to this story, isn’t there?”
    I nodded, not wanting to look into her big blue eyes.
    She sat up