Oh, sweet Mother of Witches.
I didn't think I could handle finding a dead body today. Or any day. Especially not that of our neighborly nemesis.
Mrs. Moore looked pale and still and corpse-like.
I swallowed the knot of dread clogging my throat as I put my hand less than an inch from her mouth. I couldn't feel any breath against my palm. I wasn't ready to accept she may have departed this earthly plane, so I put my hand lightly against her lips and leaned down to study her face.
Her rheumy blue eyes flew open.
I screamed and scrambled backwards.
"Murderer," she yelled hoarsely. She tried to flail, but she was too weak to do much more than lift her arms a few inches. Mrs. Moore collapsed against the bed. "Go ahead, Cassandra Willowstone. End an old lady's life."
I pressed a hand against my chest and breathed deeply, trying to get my racing heart under control. The woman had scared the bejeebers outta me. "I don't want to kill you, Mrs. Moore."
"Ha!" She turned her head toward me, her gaze accusatory. "You're in my house—uninvited, I might add—with your hand over my mouth. If you wanted to suffocate me, you should've pinched my nose shut, too. Or you could've pressed a pillow against my face." She glared at me. "You don't even know how to murder a person right."
"I wasn't trying to suffocate you!" I huffed out an irritated breath. "I wanted to make sure you were not de—er, that you were okay."
She snorted. "Do I look okay to you?"
"No," I conceded. "That's why I was checking to see if you were still breathing."
"You ever hear of taking a pulse? 'Cause that's how most folks determine if someone is alive." She broke into a heavy coughing fit. She tried to grab for the tissue box on the nightstand and missed. I scooped it up and handed it to her.
"I can get my own tissues," she griped. She blew her nose and put the tissue on top of the others on the nightstand. "I'm not dead. No thanks to you. So you can go on home. And tell those sisters of yours they don't know the first thing about magicking up a decent fart bubble. Everyone knows you need elephant poop if you want to clear out a room."
"Yeah. I'll pass that right along." I pressed my lips together. Sarcasm was not the right response, especially if I wanted to ensure my acceptance into the coven. The slightest whisper of rude behavior could mar my chances.
Not that Mrs. Moore actually talked to anyone. But I wasn't taking the risk. "I'm sorry my sisters disturbed you, Mrs. Moore. Is there anything I can do to make it up for their mischief?"
She narrowed her gaze at me. "Why are you being nice?"
"I am nice."
"Humph. Nice is boring. You used to be interesting." She drew the quilt up to her chin. "You shouldn't try so hard to please other people. Especially those snooty witches in the coven. Bunch of worthless hags."
My mouth dropped open. "That's not… um, true." I flinched at my lie. The Garden Cove Coven witches were snooty. But not worthless. Well, not all of them.
"That Dorianna Miller has taken what used to be a decent coven and made 'em all in her designer image." She pointed a quivering finger at me. "You shouldn't bother with them, Cassandra. You should build your life your way, no matter what anyone else thinks. Your mother's mistakes don't belong to you or those twits you call siblings."
I blinked at Old Lady Moore. That was the first time anyone had voiced support for my family. Ever. And it came from the one woman who hated us more than anyone else.
"Well? Stop gawking at me. Go home already." She had another rough coughing fit. The rattle in her chest worried me, and whether or not she liked it, she needed help.
Even her familiar recognized the distress she was in. Harold kept looking at her and then at me. Okay, dog. I get it. And you're right. She's a hot mess.
I crossed my arms. "I'm sending the twins over to take care of you until I get home from my shift tonight."
"Don't you dare," she said, wheezing. "I'll turn them into frogs if they step foot in my house."
"You don't have enough energy to cast a spell," I scoffed. "So, either my sisters come over and take care of you or…"
Mrs. Moore eyed me. "Or what?"
"I'll call an ambulance right now and have your ungrateful, bony butt carted off to the hospital."
She gasped. "You wouldn't!"
"Try me."
Her expression turned sour as she studied my face to see if I was serious about calling an ambulance. She must've realized I would do it because she sighed in defeat. "Fine. Send those ninnies over, if you want."
"If it makes you feel any better, they're gonna really hate being here waiting on you hand and foot."
She almost smiled. At least I think the corners of her mouth turned up a teeny tiny bit. Then she said, "You swear you won't send me to the hospital?"
"Swear."
She nodded and closed her eyes. Then she cracked open one eye. "What are you waiting for? You still hoping I'll croak?"
"That'll never happen." I turned toward the door and then paused, looking over my shoulder. "You're too mean to die."
Old Lady Moore's rusty laughter chased me down the stairs.
***|***|***|***|***
"No," said the twins together. They sat on my bed watching me rush around the room as I finished getting ready for the day.
"No way are we playing nurse to that cow," emphasized April.
"To that mean cow," added May.
Man, I really hated it when they presented a united front. It made breaking through their stubbornness a hundred times harder.
"Look, I'm an hour behind already," I said. "It's almost nine-thirty. I have to get Dorianna's errands done before my shift starts at eleven. Mrs. Moore is sick and needs help." I paused from buttoning my work shirt to stare hard at them. I aimed all the sisterly guilt I could muster in their direction. "You two are focusing your witchcraft studies on the healing arts. You want to help people, right?"