Read Online Dewitched (Witchless In Seattle Mysteries Book 3) by Dakota Cassidy - Free Book Online Page B

was already thinking ahead. Very levelheaded of her.”
    It took everything I had not to snort out loud. “Someday, I’ll tell you all about my mother and her level head.”
    “I can’t wait,” he teased, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “Night, Stevie.”
    “Night, Forrest,” I murmured back, wiggling my fingers as he let go of me before disappearing down the steps and across the lawn.
    Kicking off my shoes, I stooped to pick them up and decided to wait just another moment to go back inside and help my mother.
    “Stevie? I have intel,” Win said, his tone ominous.
    I sighed as I looked up at the stars. “Intel?”
    “A spirit here—no face, just a voice—says not to believe everything you see.”
    My head hung between my shoulders as a sardonic laugh spewed from my lips. “Oh, that’s hugely helpful. Bet it has to do with my mother. I think Dita just proved what she shows the world isn’t real. If that spirit’s contacting you because of her, it should be telling that to all the people she encountered tonight, including Carmella, who bought her Mary Poppins routine lock, stock and tea.”
    “Hold on—more coming…”
    Did I want to know what was coming? Would it be something horrible about my mother? Some piece of information I was better off not knowing?
    “The spirit says—a male spirit, in case you wondered—your mother isn’t what she seems… How curious, don’t you think?”
    Rolling my eyes, I headed back inside. “Tell your spirit he’s like twenty years too late. I’ve always known she gives good face. She’s only been my mother for almost thirty-three years. If he really wants to help, tell him to find Bart. Some answers would be nice.”
    “I’ve been waiting here on Plane Limbo since you found him, but no sign yet. Either he immediately crossed or he’s drifting.”
    “Well, if you see High Planes Drifter, tell him we have some questions, would you?”
    “I am nothing if not your minion, Dove,” Win joked.
    “Did you ever find Hugh?”
    How could a man claim to be my father then take off without another word? I wanted to talk to my mother about it, but it was a pretty precarious time to bring up something she never wanted to talk about to begin with.
    “I haven’t seen him since his confession. I looked everywhere, too. I’d like to chalk this up to someone attempting a scam with you, but my gut says something else.”
    “Perfect. Then I’ll have to ask my mother about him. Not looking forward to that conversation.”
    “But you must protect yourself, Stevie, and your mother.”
    “Stephania? Who are you talking to? I thought everyone had gone home?” my mother called from the kitchen.
    I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s a relief to finally tell another living soul I have a ghost. “It’s my ghost, Mom. His name is Win. Or Crispin Alistair Winterbottom, if you’re into long names that sound like they belong to a British butler.”
    “Oh, Stephania, will you never learn?” Win asked on a chuckle.
    She cocked her head, looking up from the laptop as I took the seat across the table. “Your ghost? I thought you could no longer hear the dead? You said you lost your powers, during our last phone call.”
    “I did. And we didn’t have a phone call, Mom. I left you a message and you sent me a text back saying Bart said you shouldn’t get involved because of council reprisal.”
    “Must you make mountains out of molehills, Stevie?”
    No. I mustn’t. This wasn’t healthy. No rehashing, especially now that her husband was dead. We had more important things to discuss—like anything that would be helpful in finding Bart’s killer.
    Dropping my shoes in the corner by the mudroom just off the kitchen, I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know how I can hear Win. I just can. He showed up one day, and we’ve been together ever since.”
    I wasn’t terribly interested in telling my mother everything that had gone down in the past couple of months since