6
" The vibrations of an addict are of a very specific sort—they ricochet, out of control, mostly out of reach. The energy called up by the drug quickly disperses, leaving a void, a nothingness. Nature abhors a vacuum, so negative forces rush in, take up residence. The only immediate relief is more narcotics. It must be horrific. “Come in, come in. I’m Senator Jonathan Huffman. You’re welcome here,” said a man in his late sixties, with a booming, commanding voice. He was hale and hearty, a ruddy glow under an expensive haircut. Dressed in a navy blue jacket over khaki pants, he wore an honest-to-gosh ascot at his throat. He exuded wealth and privilege, innate confidence. And an overanxious need to be liked. He had one arm wrapped around a woman similar in age, who was fragile and birdlike, almost lost in her Nancy Reagan–style bright red ensemble. She nodded at us and smiled. “You’re friends of Oliver’s, I presume?” asked the senator. “Oh, hey, Gregory,” said Oliver with a "
― Juliet Blackwell , Hexes and Hemlines (A Witchcraft Mystery, #3)
15
" You're going to the ball?" Luc asked. "Need an escort?"
"I appreciate the offer, but I hear it's all the rage to go stag."
He raised his eyebrows.
"Besides, I think your brother might take it amiss."
"I thought you two were... taking a break?"
"I'd like to wait and see. He's only gone for a couple of weeks."
"I'll take you," Aidan interrupted again. "I was planning on going, myself."
"Dude, I'll take you," echoed Conrad from his seat at the counter.
"Thanks guys." I had to smile. This for a witch who was quite literally banned from any and all high school dances. "But, really, I sort of like the idea of going solo."
Just then we all looked around as the bell on the front door tinkled again, this time announcing the arrival of Inspector Carlos Romero.
"Blessed goddess!" Bronwyn exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "Don't tell me you're here to ask Lily out as well? I'm beginning to feel like a dueña."
"No," Carlos said, looking puzzled. "
― Juliet Blackwell , A Cast-Off Coven (A Witchcraft Mystery, #2)
16
" The cat's not hurting you, Oscar. Get a grip."
"Mistress, make it stop looking at me!"
I pulled up to a stoplight and assessed my posse.
"Cat, stop it. Oscar doesn't want to be your friend." At the sound of my voice, the feline shifted it's gaze to me.
"There," I said to Oscar. "All better."
Keeping its eyes on me, the cat moved with stealthy determination, climbing into Oscar's lap.
"Mistress!"
"Stop it, both of ya'll," I said as the light changed. "
― Juliet Blackwell , Hexes and Hemlines (A Witchcraft Mystery, #3)
20
" The rosé was dry and crisp and perfect. The baguette was ambrosia: crispy on the outside, chewy on the inside. What was it about bread in France? Like the French version of butter, it seemed to bear little relation to the item of the same name back home. Genevieve sliced a wedge of pâté, topped it with a cornichon, and made a little sandwich. Another glass of wine, a bit of cheese: P’tit Basque, tangy Roquefort, a stinky and delicious washed-rind Brie. Even the pear seemed better than the ones she was used to: the perfect combination of tangy and sweet, the juice running down her arm as she ate. Sated, "
― Juliet Blackwell , The Paris Key
