After The Wand Falters Grim (Murder, She Witches PREQUEL, Book 0.50)(Paranormal Women's Midlife Fiction)


 
 
 Table of Contents
 
 Title Page & Copyright
 Chapter 1
 Chapter 2
 Chapter 3
 Chapter 4
 Chapter 5
 Chapter 6
 Chapter 7
 Chapter 8
 Chapter 9
 Chapter 10
 Chapter 11
 Chapter 12
 Chapter 13
 Books by Kat McGee
 About the Author 
 After The Wand Falters Grim A Murder, She Witches Mystery by Kat McGee Copyright Info © Kat McGee 2023, Towering Pines Publishing Cover design by Melody Simmons (bookcoversbymelody.com) All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental. Chapter 1 Atop the sales counter of the newly renamed Three Witches Bookstore, the store cat curled her paws in a dainty tuck beneath her chest. Nose in the air, she tilted first one ear, then the other. “Never,” she said, sounding like an aging British actress, “in the bookstore’s entire history or the centuries of my existence, has there been more than one bookstore owner at a time.” “Elzadora,” I slid my reading glasses toward the tip of my nose and kept my tone even as any former middle-grade teacher would, “I know change can be disconcerting, but—” “Ack. No psychobabble people speak. You three are as annoying as you are smelly.” “Pardon?” “There will be no beg pardons for the likes of you.” She lifted her nose, her nostrils quivering. “Your scents war against one another. You reek of fake vanilla and soap. The one who wears the bright colors and writes about the human bane of romance brings along coffee and cinnamon aromas. Fragrances of the outdoors cling to the tallest with the occasional harsh mint of muscle cream worn by you furless ones.” Elzadora sniffed and sneezed. Delicately snuffling between quivering whiskers, she narrowed her gaze and studied me as I boxed more books. “Must you disturb everything in the entire store? You’re a writer. You should respect the tomes here.” “Of course, we honor books. It’s the dust and clutter we’re working hard to eradicate.” I shook my head. It must be difficult for the elderly feline, considering all the changes my co-owners and I made to the building where the old gal had lived for the last two hundred-plus years. “Octavia,” Blanche called down from the second level. “Are they here yet?” Elzadora ducked her head and closed her eyes. “That accent! Oh, the agony to my delicate hearing.” “There’s nothing wrong with Blanche’s accent.” “Don’t be cheeky.” The cat huffed and swatted the end of her tail against the counter. “She sounds like she swallows her vowels.” “No, Blanche,” I called out, “the furniture store hasn’t yet delivered our new apartment furniture, and the movers haven’t brought our treasures from our houses.” “How about an early lunch?” Violet stuck her head out from behind a bookshelf on the first floor. “Or is it dinner? I mean, some folks use breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Others breakfast, dinner, and supper. I never know which to say around who. Or is it whom?” My schoolteacher persona kicked in. “It’s who when you mean she, he, and they. Whom for her, him, and them.” “Bully for you, Ms. Aging English Teacher,” said the disagreeable feline. “Why don’t you all go home? It’s far past my twelfth nap time of the day.” I longed to stroke the cat’s black fur but didn’t dare. “Must I remind you that this is home once they deliver our furniture and boxes of personal items?” “The fates have cursed me. Three witches at once. It’s unheard of. It’s just not done.” Elzadora stood, circled, and turned her back to me. Across the way, Violet scooted another box of books aside with a shove of her red and green-checkered, high-top tennis shoes. “Gals, I can’t wait to get my pots and cauldrons. My next potion recipe book is due in a few months, and I must get to work.” From the second-floor landing, Blanche preened and stared with a faux innocent gaze at the cat. With a groan, Elzadora planted her chin on her front paws and scoffed with a loud grunt. “Which means more stink. I can’t believe you added a kitchen for potion brewing here on the first floor. A commercial kitchen, no less.” I frowned since it seemed there was no pleasing the old girl. “Blanche made sure it has an air cleaning system in the oven hood to eliminate the smells.” “If it’s potions, there’s no getting rid of the foul odors.” Elzadora wiggled her behind as she rose to all fours and stretched her back in a rippling wave with her front lowered and arched her rear into the air. “The last three one-at-a-time owners weren’t so objectionable or rowdy.” Violet chuckled and snorted. “Did you hear that, Blanche? We’re rowdy.” “I wish.” Blanche traipsed down the stairs, fanning herself with a sheaf of papers like a southern belle making a grand entrance. “Someone must introduce me to the cute chef giving those lovely local cooking classes.” She paused when she reached the first floor. “I may just sign up for a dessert baking class once we’re settled.” “Great idea,” I nodded. “In your spare time while running a bookstore.” “I won’t be able to moon dance for a while since I’ll be unboxing and polishing my current collection of stones and crystals.” Violet blew the damp strands of her hair out of her face. Elzadora moaned as if she were in a great deal of pain. “How