Dee inched her way to the edge of the table. ‘Mother and Dad have been dead for twelve years. Why would anybody do a book now? And exactly who gave him our alias? We can’t just assume Xan isn’t behind this. The last time she came after us, we almost didn’t get away in time. Open the door.’

Lizzie and Mare looked at each other.

‘Maybe we should vote on it,’ Mare said. ‘Just because Dee is over twenty-eight, that doesn’t mean she gets to choose her own life-’

‘MARE!’ Dee screeched, and Lizzie slipped around her and opened the front door.

Dee shoved off the dining room table and launched herself past them, out into the morning sky.

* * *

Xantippe Fortune put aside her silver spell bowl, the coppery dust of the True Desire spell gleaming in the bottom, and then wiped her see glass clean while the short, dark-haired woman next to her looked defiant but nervous. Very nervous.

Good, Xan thought and settled into the silver brocade wing chair, the folds of her red gown falling smoothly over her wrists.

It was hell finding competent help for a supernatural power heist in the twenty-first century, especially in a place as small and clueless as Salem’s Fork.

‘All I did was sneeze,’ Maxine said, smoothing down her polyester peasant blouse.

Fashion always tells, Xan thought. ‘You sneezed on a magic glass, Maxine. Twice. The first one blew the front door wide open, which made the sisters close it instead of leaving it open to the screen door, which made it impossible to hear what was happening in the front of the house. The second sneeze almost made them close the garden windows, and if they had, I would have lost the dining room conversation. Because you were never taught to use a handkerchief, they think a hurricane is coming. Plus it’s unsanitary. You just bought a diner, woman. I shudder to think what happens in your kitchen.’