Liberty raked her with a scorching glance. “Really? I worry about the future of this town. I really do.”
“Are you a witch, Liberty?” Marli was completely unfazed. “My grandma dresses like you and she’s a dud.”
Liberty was speechless, something I couldn’t remember happening since she was spellbound. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and ominous. “Get out of my house.”
Marli turned to me. “I thought it was your house?”
“It’s the Brighton family manor,” I said. “Technically owned by my mother.”
“Well, then, Liberty can’t just ask me to leave.”
Mr. Bixby chortled. “I. Cannot. Wait.”
Liberty crossed her arms. “Young lady, would you like to leave here as a snake or a lizard? The only choice is reptiles.”
Everyone in the room flinched, with the exception of Marli. Even Tiffin stopped chewing on the table leg, and said, “Uh-oh.”
“Rattlesnake,” Marli said, grinning. “Can you do it? Or at least something venomous. This is awesome. Finally, some real magic.”
“Miss Brighton, don’t,” Renata said, going over to stand in front of Liberty. “Marli’s a novice, like the rest of us.”
“She’s a rude upstart and a Seagrave,” Liberty said. “I’m going with a harmless garter snake. She can slither home to her dreadful father.”
He was dreadful, at least according to Marli’s memories. “I think she needs her legs, Cousin Liberty. Obviously, there’s a reason Marli’s like this.”
“Like what?” Marli looked baffled. “I just want to learn and if Liberty here is a hotshot witch, I’ll take the hit for the team. We’ll be able to turn everyone into snakes later. So handy.”
Bixby struggled to get down and I let him. “We are not a team. I’m going to—”
I jerked on his mental leash, something I had rarely done, and the look he gave me was scorching, too.
Liberty took a deep breath. “I do understand, Janelle. I know Walter Seagrave and I suppose that explains a lot.”
“My dad is a bigwig in this town,” Marli said. “Best friends with Mr. Knight and Mr. Blatchford. Why hasn’t he mentioned you, Liberty?”
Finally, my cousin smiled. “You go home now and ask him about me. I make it a point to be a thorn in the side of the ‘boys’ club.’ They’re probably smoking a cigar together and celebrating.”
“Celebrating?” Cassie’s voice quavered. “Why would you say that?”
Sinda walked over to Cassie and topped her up. “I’m sure Liberty doesn’t mean to joke about your father’s passing.”
A look flickered over Liberty’s face that I barely recognized. Shame.
“I’m sorry, Cassandra,” she said. “I know I was at your wedding but I still didn’t make the connection. It was thoughtless. And I only meant there was less competition among businessmen.”
“Who feels like a snake now?” Marli said.
Liberty’s hand came up and Renata was still in the way. “Harold!” I called, on my inside dog party line. “Take out the trash before Liberty gets arrested.”
The Australian shepherd had stayed in the hall until summoned. He was not a fan of crowds or other dogs. Now he came into the room like a whirling dervish.
Marli’s startled scream suggested she couldn’t make out the dog in the wind. Harold assisted her out of the kitchen and Liberty crooked her finger. A few seconds later, she tapped in the other direction and the front door slammed.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she said, “I’ll sleep at my own house tonight.”
“Liberty, can we talk?” I called after her.
She reappeared briefly in the doorway with the fox stole draped over her ski jacket. “Make an appointment for tomorrow with Harold.”
A moment later the door slammed again. Everyone else got up to leave, too, adjourning our meeting faster than I’d dared hope.
“Liberty’s something else,” Brianna said, on her way out. “I want to be just like her when I witch up.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dr. Featherburn wasn’t what I expected at all. I’d pictured someone in her seventies, with gray hair and the lines wisdom brings. Instead, she was likely in her early fifties and was what Mom would call a handsome woman. Her straight fair hair was in a cut so short the Wyldwood wind would never get a rise out of it, and her blue eyes had the eerie, penetrating gaze of a certain spectral border collie I knew. And a couple of living ones, too.
“I don’t like her,” Mr. Bixby said, before we even sat down in the examination room.
“Me, either,” Bijou said. “She smells fake. Fakey fake fake. Magical facelift.”
“The poodle’s right. She’s like a waxwork figure. What’s she hiding?”
I answered on the inside line. “Hopefully a wealth of experience with weird magical problems. We need her, Bixby, so please keep it down.”
His grumble was all the satisfaction I got.
Meanwhile, Ren bent over to pick up Bijou, ostensibly to suppress her commentary but also to hide her grin over that very commentary.