Beth said, “You didn’t see anyone else? Other customers, maybe? Anyone following her or taking too much of an interest in her?”
Susan gave a world-weary sigh. “It’s been a slow week. Nobody came in until after lunch, and by then she was long gone.”
“Did Alice mention anything about her family?” Beth said. “Anything about her parents?”
Susan started to say something, but a loud crash from the stockroom cut her off. It sounded like a case of bottles hitting the floor, followed by a rush of giggling and then absolute silence.
Susan’s lips pressed into a razor-thin line. “Excuse me,” she said. “Some people don’t know how to treat breakables.” She stalked off toward the beaded curtain, and this time the beads rattled loud enough to drown out her grumbling.
When she disappeared, I looked at Beth. “She really hates her.”
“More than my ex hated paying child support,” Beth agreed.
“She seems weirdly obsessed with Alice,” I said.
“That’s how it goes. In every coven, there’s always one.”
Summer drifted back into the front, clutching a phone in her hands. I caught the blue glow of the home screen reflected in her nose ring. She avoided eye contact.
I said, “Did you hear any of that?”
She shrugged. “Susan says the same stuff about everyone and everything.”
I was about to press her for more, but a second crash came from the stockroom. This time it was louder, punctuated by a metallic clatter and a sudden, high-pitched whine. The whole shop seemed to vibrate for a second, and a couple more customers who had entered the shop turned to look before disappearing down another aisle.
Summer flinched. “That’s not normal.”
Beth and I exchanged a look. “I think you’d better stay here,” Beth told her, and she nodded with a gratitude that bordered on relief.
We pushed through the beads and entered the stockroom. It was a labyrinth of cardboard boxes, stacked nearly to the ceiling, with narrow trails worn through the dust and footprints showing exactly where Susan had stomped. She was nowhere in sight. I called her name, but only the echo of my own words answered.
The whine returned, louder now, and I realized it was coming from a closed door at the back of the room. Purple light flickered under the crack. Without thinking, I reached for the handle.
Beth caught my arm. “Don’t touch,” she warned. “Could be hexed.”
So I waited while she made a pass over the handle with her hand. “Clear,” she whispered, and I pulled the door open.
What happened next unfolded so quickly I nearly missed it. Purple light exploded into the room, bright enough to sear the inside of my eyelids, and something cold and wet splashed across my face and down my shirt. I blinked and saw Beth, her hair and nose dripping with what looked like neon paint. I started to say, “What the hell—” but got a mouthful of the stuff and started coughing.
A snowstorm of glitter rained down from the ceiling, sticking to the wet streaks on our skin and clothing, and in the midst of it all, a bottle lay on the floor, rolling in a lazy circle like a spinning top. Beth kicked it aside and then spat on the ground. “She booby-trapped the back room.”
My eyes stung. “Who does that? For what?”
Beth wiped a streak of purple from her cheek, then squinted into the darkness beyond the stockroom. “Susan’s gone. That’s why. She set this up to buy herself time while she bolted.”
I looked back at the door. From somewhere in the store I couldn’t see, Summer exclaimed, “Oh my god,” and then there was a third, smaller crash.
Beth didn’t wait. She darted for the exit, leaving a dripping trail behind her. I stumbled after her, already regretting my outfit and wondering if purple paint or whatever it was stained forever. We barreled through the beads and into the shop, then stopped, staring at the shop that looked like a purple alien had exploded all over it. Summer stood by the beads and stared at us, mouth open, a forgotten towel in her hand, covered in glitter and purple gloop herself.
Beth snatched the towel, wiped her hands, and said, “If Susan comes back, tell her we’re coming for her.”
Summer didn’t answer. She just stared at the splotches of paint on her hands, then up at the streaks we’d left on the walls and floor. The paint and glitter had gone all over the shop.
What. The. Hell?
NINE
Emma
