Free wicked witches 07.5 - christmas witch by Amanda M. Lee Page A

bad,” Thistle said, her tone mocking.
    “Revenge pretty,” Bay finished, giggling.
    I was starting to like them more and more as their evil inclinations got a foothold. By the time Poppy stopped in front of me, her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath, I was ready for just about anything.
    “Mrs. Winchester, it has come to my attention that you threatened my daughter the other day,” Poppy said, her face murderous. “I’m here to tell you that things like that won’t be tolerated.”
    Lila was smug as she crossed her arms over her chest. It wasn’t nearly as adorable on her as it was on me.
    “Really? What are you going to do to me if I threaten little Licorice again?”
    “Her name is Lila,” Poppy snapped. “If you threaten her again I’ll report you to the police. How do you like that?”
    “My word against a ten-year-old terror who has been suspended from school three different times for sticking gum in other kids’ hair? I’m fine with that.”
    My response must have thrown Poppy, because it took her a few moments to collect herself. “Mrs. Winchester, I don’t think you understand the gravity of this situation. My daughter has been plagued by nightmares – she actually thinks you’re going to curse her with a … beauty mark … above her lip – and I don’t think it’s funny to purposely scare children.”
    “I didn’t threaten her with a beauty mark,” I shot back. “I threatened her with herpes … like you have.”
    “From the mailman,” Thistle added.
    “I do not have herpes,” Poppy hissed. “It’s a beauty mark.”
    “Whatever,” I said. I don’t have time for this. “We need to be somewhere. Unless you want me to give you a … beauty mark … to match on your bottom lip, you’re going to want to get out of my face.”
    “Oh, don’t be crass,” Poppy said. “We all know you’re all talk. You might have everyone in this town fooled into thinking you’re some powerful witch, but I know the truth. You’re nothing but a bitter old woman, and you’re teaching these little … hellions … to be just as obnoxious as you are.”
    Well, that did it. You can call me a lot of things, but bitter isn’t one of them. Bitchy? Sure. Bitter? This woman is asking for it. And hellions? Okay, yeah, that fits. I didn’t hesitate, instead gathering a limited supply of power and flinging it in her direction. I didn’t have the ingredients necessary to handle the herpes threat, but I made a mental note to tackle that before bed. It isn’t going to be a merry Christmas in the Stevens household. I can practically guarantee that.
    Poppy’s haughty countenance faltered when she felt something breezy whip past her nether regions. She frowned and glanced down, horrified to find a rip in the crotch of her pants and her over-sized cotton underwear on display.
    “What the … ?”
    “What’s wrong, Mommy?” Lila asked, faux concern washing over her features. “I thought you were going to have Mrs. Winchester arrested. That’s what you told me. Do it.”
    “Shut up, Lila,” Poppy snapped, dropping Lila’s hand and covering the spot where her thighs met. “I … what just happened here?”
    “I have no idea,” I replied. “Perhaps your ego got so big it ripped your pants.”
    “These are brand new pants!”
    “Maybe you’re fat,” Thistle suggested.
    Poppy’s eyes were dangerous slits when they landed on Thistle. “I am not fat!”
    “Your head is,” Bay said. She tugged on my arm, drawing my attention to her. “We need to go. We don’t have a lot of time before dinner.”
    She was right. I cast one final smile in Poppy’s direction and then gestured for the girls to head toward the car. “Have a very merry Christmas, Poppy. You, too, Lapdog.”
    “Mommy! What is going on? You said you were going to make Mrs. Winchester cry.”
    “I think she’s the one who wants to cry now,” I said, leaving Poppy to haphazardly attempt to cover herself – and her