Witches in Flight Read Online Free Page B

earned the right to meddle.   “You’re a mind witch—when you
read your poetry, what did you sense from your audience?”
    “But those were just a bunch of witches.”
    “What, now you’re a snob?”   Elsie grabbed two eggs and held them out.   Change of plans—she wasn’t running for her blankie
until this was all over.   “Show me
how to separate these.”   She hid a
grin as Lizard automatically reached out.   “Half your poetry class was there, and the people who usually come to
Poetry Slam.   Did they think you sucked?”
    An egg cracked onto the side of the bowl with way more force
than seemed necessary.   “It was
just one poem.”
    Elsie laughed in sheer wonder at the compass in her head that
knew exactly where to go.   “So do
it again.   Go back and read another
poem, and see if that one sucks.”
    She was pretty sure the two eggs landing in the bowl, shells
still on, weren’t properly separated.   And the gobsmacked look on her roommate’s face was… completely awesome.
    ~ ~ ~
    Lauren stared at the emailed photos from Jennie.   And the message.   From one meddling witch to
another—well done, and good luck with the fallout.   There were several pictures of
Freddie and the gathered crowd, a few of their rebel poet—and one of the
sexy young man in the corner.
    Yeah.   Even with a
continent of miles between them, Lauren could hear the unspoken message.   Time to ‘fess up.   Inviting Josh to Lizard’s poetry slam
had been a carefully considered move—and she’d known there would be hell
to pay later.   Apparently “later”
had arrived.
    Her pendant vibrated lightly.   Great.   Even the
rock agreed.
    It was no surprise to see Lizard wave through the main office
window a few moments later.   First,
they had a client coming in to see a house, and second—karma tended to
land with both feet.
    The small dish in Lizard’s hands was less expected, however,
especially when she slammed it down on Lauren’s desk, along with a fork.   “Eat fast.   Elsie put some kind of warming spell on it, but she said it
probably won’t last long, and cold soufflé tastes like glue.”
    It was some sort of puffy concoction topped with browned cheese
and smelling of eggy goodness.   Lauren didn’t need to be told twice.   Three bites in, some of what Lizard had said started to
process.   “You and Elsie cooked
breakfast together?”
    Her assistant shrugged.   “Is it still breakfast at eleven o’clock?”
    Emboldened by the lack of crankiness in that answer, Lauren
forged ahead.   “You made
soufflés?   I thought you didn’t
like food with fancy names.”   There
had been a bit of a rant the previous week about Elsie’s weekly menu and words
in foreign languages.
    “Eggs are cheap, even in French.”   Lizard pointed at the dish.   “Seriously, finish it.   It took about fifteen tries before Elsie got the hang of folding egg
whites gently, so appreciate it while it’s warm.”
    Lauren was smart enough not to ask how you folded an egg.   Or to call her assistant a
chef—and clearly one in a good mood, if she was giving Elsie cooking
lessons.   Which made owning up to
meddling an even less happy thing to be doing, but Jennie was right.   It was time.  
    She shoveled in the last bites of yummy soufflé and swung the
computer monitor around.   “Jennie
sent pictures from your Poetry Slam.”
    Lizard looked at the screen like it was green, glowing
Kryptonite.   “Am I going to hate
them?”
    Lauren didn’t speak—she just clicked her mouse.
    Her feisty assistant’s eyes softened as she looked at the solid,
fiercely proud face of Freddie Grenadine.   “He drove his bus right off his route for me.   I hope he doesn’t get in trouble.”
    He wouldn’t.   Lauren
had spent a busy hour on the phone making very sure of it.   “He loves you.”
    “Yeah.”   Lizard
waved her hand in a vague “keep going” motion.
    Lauren handed over the mouse and resisted the