Read Online Witches Incorporated by K.E. Mills - Free Book Online

kitchen untouched Cook will complain to Mother and I’ll never be allowed to borrow the servants again.”
    So they ate dinner, Reg grumbling under her breath the whole time. When they were finished, Monk took them on a guided tour of the old house. It was long on dust, cobwebs and hidden passages, and short on pretty much everything else, including curtains and doorknobs.
    “I’m afraid Great-uncle Throgmorton was a bit
peculiar
towards the end,” Monk explained, as he opened the door to the huge attic that occupied all the space beneath the roof.
    “And does peculiar run in the family?” said Reg, perched on Melissande’s shoulder. “Because if it does, and you’re thinking of popping the question to madam here any time soon, you might want to think twice. There are the children to consider, after all.”
    Melissande felt embarrassed heat wash through her. “
Reg
!”
    “Well, somebody’s got to say it,” said Reg, unrepentant. “We both know you’ll be thinking it.”
    “No, Reg,” she said grimly. “Only you would think—or say—something like that.”
    “
Anyway
,” said Monk, pushing the attic door wide. “Here’s where I’m experimenting. See? Nothing sinister, nothing dangerous, nothing to worry the Department at
all
.”
    “Provided they never get wind of it,” said his sister, peering in at the bubbling test tubes, the thaumic agitators, the etheretic quantifiers and the multidimensional wavelength gauges. “Honestly, Monk. No wonder you’re too skint to pay for servants and doorknobs. All this equipment! It must have cost you a
fortune
!”
    Monk mumbled something and pulled the door shut. “So anyway, that’s the house,” he said, shepherding them back down the creaking stairs. “A bit decrepit, but with possibilities.”
    “Provided you don’t blow the roof to matchsticks,” said Reg. “Because just between you, me and the cobwebs, sunshine, one of those thaumic agitators didn’t look entirely stable.”
    “What?” He frowned. “Are you sure? Because I’ve realigned the wretched thing four times tonight! I don’t understand what’s going on, it won’t hold its settings, but I could’ve
sworn
I—”
    Bibbie rolled her eyes. “Just check it again, Monk, or else you will blow the roof to matchsticks and we’ll never hear the end of it.”
    “Right,” said Monk, backing up the staircase. “Right. Yes. Ah—look—this might take a while. I’ll have Dodsworth drive you home, shall I? Yes. Just give him a shout, Bibs, and he’ll bring round the jalopy. Thanks for coming, girls. I’ll see you both soon.”
    “On second thoughts, madam,” said Reg, as Monk disappeared round the first bend in the staircase, “at the rate you two are progressing there’s absolutely no need at all to worry about the children.”
    Melissande, staring after him, swallowed a sigh.
Not even a chaste little peck on the cheek. Trust Reg to notice that. Sometimes I wonder, I really do wonder, if he remembers I’m Bibbie’s friend and not her sister.
    “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go home, shall we?”

CHAPTER FOUR

    M orning. Melissande groped for her glasses, slid them on, then rolled back onto her pillow.
    After growing up as a princess in a palace, complete with courtiers, servants, extensively manicured gardens and frequent public outings to fulfil her “being ogled” duties, there was something deeply
satisfying
about living in a tiny bedsit in a tiny rented office on the top floor of an elderly four-storey building in a nook-and-cranny corner of a large and crowded city. It offered the kind of freedom she had never expected to experience, what with being a princess and then a prime minister, crushed beneath the burden of an entire kingdom’s welfare. Until Gerald hurtled into her orbit she’d more or less resigned herself to a life of duty, of obligation, of walking on eggshells around unpredictable, kingly Lional.
    But Gerald… and Lional’s insanity… had