Free Bitch Witch by S.R. Karfelt Page A

origins of the Archer fortune were far worse than oil and fracking, another one of the reasons Sarah wouldn’t touch it. Sarah crossed her arms and studied Paul. At this particular moment the obsessive draw to him took the form of a need to make sure he was safe. The term three months in a psychiatric hospital had done a lot to twist the pull toward him into something close to maternal.
    “Are you honestly not drawn to me?”
    Paul crossed his arms and leaned against a pillar on the porch, gazing down at her. “You seem really nice.”
    Sarah laughed. “I’m not. You don’t have to try not to hurt my feelings. Be candid. You’re not dreaming about me? Or having obsessive thoughts about us? Desperate to—you know?”
    “Do men ever do those first two, even when they are in love?”
    The other witches in her family’s coven used to refer to Aunt Lily’s men as groupies or love slaves. Sarah nodded. “Yes, definitely. So not the first two, but the third? Despite these pajamas you find me attractive?”
    “Ugly PJs don’t hide the pretty.” He pronounced it purdy . “But I’d say that about a lot of women. No offense.”
    “None taken. I just want to be clear about this. When it comes to hot nasty sex with me you could take it or leave it?”
    Paul shifted uncomfortably. “Yankee women say exactly what they think, don’t they?”
    It was weird. Maybe she should tell him to go; it would make life easier on her. The fact that she could suddenly tell him to go was uncanny. The fact that Paul felt no pull was downright bizarre. Sarah knew the bindings of a love spell had wrapped them both that night in the parking lot. But if it hadn’t bound him to her or her to him for very long, what had happened to change it?
    “Stay. Please? I’d like to figure out what’s going on. There’s plenty of room.” Sarah skipped up the steps and led the way through the back door. “There’s an apartment right off the kitchen. I think it’s nice.”
    Sarah had never been inside it. Housekeepers had lived in it, quiet unobtrusive women who rarely spoke. She had a moment of anxiety before she flipped the door open and hit the light switch, half wondering if she’d find a cinderblock cell. But the space was roomy and bright, with a wet bar and small refrigerator. A window even looked over the side yard.
    Relieved, Sarah led the way across thick carpet as though she’d been there before. “It has a bathroom.”
    The bathroom startled her. It opened into the far side of the room. A mirror as wide as the double sink reflected Sarah and Paul as they approached. Apparently no one in her family had ever been in the room either, or it would have been destroyed. Sarah eyed it uneasily, but the only scary thing she saw was the mirror image of her wearing baggy pajamas.
    Digging through drawers, Sarah found new toothbrushes, soap, and towels. The last woman had left immediately after news came of Aunt Lily and her mother’s deaths, but apparently she’d cleaned her room first. Other than three years of dust and some rust in the toilet bowl, it wasn’t bad.
    “You sure?” Paul asked, already eyeing the toothbrushes.
    “Positive,” said Sarah. “There are just a couple house rules. Stay out of the attic and basement. I’d rather you didn’t go into any of the bedrooms upstairs either, at least any of the rooms with the doors shut. Feel free to root through closets for anything you might need downstairs, but don’t open any clay pots or glass jars that are sealed shut. Um. I don’t cook, but I guess you can. Be careful not to use any cast iron or copper pots if you do. Oh, and they grow everywhere, but don’t use the fresh herbs. Also, don’t let anyone inside. In fact if anyone knocks at the door, don’t answer it no matter what they say. And the guy who does the yard work, don’t try to talk to him if you see him.”
    “Okay, that’s more than a couple house rules. Is it all right if I run the vacuum and do some