The first crinkle of foil and Pumpkin’s head came up, eyes wide. It was the closest thing to a sit-up the cat was capable of.
Pandora laughed. “You’re so predictable.” She fished a treat out and tossed it into the stone path that led from the patio back to the shed, about five feet from where Pumpkin lay.
The cat watched it land, then stared wistfully after it, but didn’t move.
Pandora’s brows lifted in disbelief. “Seriously?” She tossed a second one. It landed close to the first.
Pumpkin took a moment to consider it, then finally rolled onto her feet and trotted after it.
Pandora tossed a third treat farther along the path. “I hope you know food-induced exercise probably doesn’t count.”
Pumpkin didn’t seem to care. Pandora sealed the bag of treats and went back to sipping her wine. Pumpkin found the third treat, then got distracted by a bug and gave chase. Pandora nodded in satisfaction. “My plan worked.”
She watched her orange fluff ball traipse around the yard, sniffing flowers and batting at insects. It was the perfect entertainment for drinking wine and relaxing after a long day. She thought about dinner and was about to get up and make herself a sandwich, aka Easy Dinner For Single People, when Pumpkin started scratching at the shed door.
“Please don’t tell me that squirrel is in there again.” Pandora put her glass down then thought about just letting Pumpkin wear herself out. It was good exercise.
Then the caterwauling started. For an overweight cat, Pumpkin had a very healthy set of lungs. Pandora jumped up. “Stop that before the neighbors think I’m killing you.”
She ran out to where Pumpkin was and scooped her up. “Hush, you silly thing. Honestly, where are your hunter instincts? You have to be quiet to catch stuff. That squirrel is long gone by now.”
But Pandora’s witchy senses were twitching. For a moment, she contemplated getting her shovel to brandish as a weapon, but the shovel was in the shed. So was her rake and her pruning shears. Basically, all her best weapons. If there was a serial killer hiding in there, he was well armed.
“Bother.” Well, everyone had to die sometime, right? She grabbed the handle of the shed and yanked it open.
The transom windows on the side walls let in just enough light for her to see there was no squirrel.
There was, however, a young girl sitting on Pandora’s gardening stool. She had a backpack at her feet, a bag of beef jerky on her lap and a smartphone in her hands. The screen was illuminated, lighting up her face. She stared at Pandora. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Pandora stared back. Then put Pumpkin on the ground. “Um, your beef jerky is making my cat crazy. Also, what are you doing in my shed?”
The girl sealed up the bag of dried meat and tucked it in her backpack. “Hanging out.”
A real conversationalist. “I can see that. Can I ask why you’re hanging out in my shed?”
Sensing the jerky was no longer in play, but also realizing there was potentially a new source of tummy rubs, Pumpkin plopped down on the kid’s flip-flops and rolled over, exposing herself like the shameless hussy she was.
“Nowhere else to go.” The girl shrugged, then reached down and scratched Pumpkin’s belly. “Hi, kitty. You want some jerky?”
“No jerky for the cat. And what do you mean nowhere else to go? You don’t have a home?” A homeless teenager? In Nocturne Falls? Wearing really nice clothes and in possession of an iPhone? Pandora’s witchy senses were picking up the distinct aroma of manure. And that wasn’t just because the shed held all her gardening stuff.
“I have a home.” The girl sighed. “I got kicked out.”
Pandora dropped her snark for a second. “Why?”
The girl stopped scratching Pumpkin to pick at the seam of her jeans. “Because…I’m a witch.”
Pandora blinked. And an odd protective instinct kicked in. “Your parents kicked you out because you’re a witch?”
That really didn’t happen in Nocturne Falls.
The kid continued to stare at her jeans. “Yeah. Well, really just my dad. My mom’s dead.”
Cue guilty feelings. “Oh, kiddo, I’m so sorry.”
The girl shrugged. “I’m not even a good witch. Well, I don’t mean I’m a bad witch. Like, I’m not putting curses on people or anything. I just turned thirteen, so I don’t really know how to do any of that stuff yet. I just know that I’m a witch.”
“Thirteen.” Pandora nodded. And spoke without thinking. “That’s about when we get our powers.”
The girl looked up. “We?”
“Um…is that what I said?” Fiddlesticks. “So what’s your name?”
“Starla.” The girl squinted at Pandora. “You definitely said we. Are you a witch? I know there’s a coven in town.”
Pumpkin stared longingly at Starla and made Puss In Boots eyes in a last ditch effort at scoring some jerky.
“You do? How do you know that?” Pandora was genuinely interested. She wasn’t aware that that info was public knowledge. It wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t printed in the paper. Or was it? She might need to check on that. Or maybe the kid’s mentor had told her. Every fledging witch was assigned one. It was how you learned. And hopefully avoided making big mistakes. Like giving yourself a tail.
Not that Pandora knew anyone personally who’d done that.
Starla gave Pandora a look like the answer was so obvious. “I read about it on the Cauldron. What’s your name?”