Witch's Bell Book One (54 page)

Flicking my eyes up at the flock of birds as
they flew out of view, I scratched my neck. I wasn't so angry at my
grandmother and the mess that she had created to forget that I was
a witch. And I could clearly see the exact path the birds flew
through the sky, the speed, the angle, everything, and I understood
what it meant.

Rain. I didn't have to look up the weather
report to confirm that fact. I just understood it.

It was instinctive.

It also made me rub my brow even harder.
Rain meant more mud. Because no doubt the moment I left for work
tomorrow morning, my grandmother would trot out to the shed, pluck
up the spade, dig holes in the garden, and get up to more mischief.
And even though I didn't particularly care about the state of the
yard, I didn't want mud everywhere.

Deciding it was thoroughly time to give up,
I waved a hand at my grandmother, walked out of the kitchen, up the
stairs, and to the shower.

I was lucky enough that our house was so
large that I practically had an entire level to myself. A level
where my grandmother hardly ever went, and one I could keep just as
clean as I liked it. It was beautifully decorated too, a testament
to all of the lovely objects that I had collected over my life;
silk cushions from India, paintings and prints from Paris, carved
statues from Thailand, and mahogany furniture from Britain.

It was my oasis away from the crazy, the
mud, and the purple-rinse curls.

By the time I made it into the shower, I was
finally calming down. I was sure to let the water practice its
magic. It had a unique way of washing over you, collecting not just
the mud and grime, but the sorrows and sadness and troubles, and
flushing them down the drain.

It wouldn't last forever; I lived in a
rundown mansion with a perpetually crazy grandmother, and we were
both witches. Trouble had a way of stalking me.

But for those few minutes I was happy.

The end of Magical
Influence Book One.

The rest of this book is currently
available.