Somebody Tell Aunt Tillie She's Dead (Toad Witch Series, Book One) by Christiana Miller Page A

down small candles and stones to create spell-crafting packets for the fair. I also scored some parchment paper and a pen that looked like a witch stirring a cauldron.
    I took an armload over to the cash register, then I went back and snagged a package of Blue Balls and a few bottles of Florida Water to cleanse the apartment.
    Mama Lua rang up the total to a shocking sum, but after eyeballing me, she subtracted ten percent from it. “For you, a special discount. Mama Lua looks out for all her little children.”
    I gave her a relieved smile. The numbers had been making my stomach twist. But even with the discount, I didn’t know how I was going to afford it.
    Gus noticed my discomfort and slipped Mama a wad of cash. “You can pay me back when you get a job,” he whispered to me.
     
    As Mama Lua packed up our “groceries” she started giving me the hairy eyeball, like she knew something wasn’t right. When she handed the bags to me, our hands touched and a little jolt of electricity passed between us. Mama Lua gasped and I jumped.
    She pointed at me. “Stay,” she said, steely-eyed.
    I wanted to run out of there, but my feet felt like they had been nailed to the floor.
    She walked over to the door, locked it and turned the sign to Closed. “You,” she said, crooking her finger at me, “There is evil around you. Dark shadows. Come with Mama Lua.”
    I looked at Gus, apprehensive.
    He gripped my elbow. “It’s what we came for,” he muttered.
    “I know.” I hissed. But it didn’t make the thought of following Mama Lua into the bowels of the store any easier.
     
    In the back of the Crooked Pantry was a yard with eight shade trees, all sorts of flowering plants and herbs, and crates of chickens, as well as an outdoor temple area. The whole thing was surrounded by a ten-foot-tall privacy fence covered in ivy.
    The reason for the privacy was because the back of the store butted up against a residential neighborhood. Besides using the outdoor temple to perform her own multitude of secret Yoruban rituals, Mama also rented it out to other groups for their rituals. So it was in her best interest to block out prying eyes.
    Not that it made a difference to the disgruntled neighbors. They had tried to shut Mama Lua down a number of times. Rumor had it the neighbors finally called a cease and desist to their war on Mama Lua, when they woke up to find chicken feet on each of their doorsteps.
    Personally, I thought they got off lucky. I wouldn’t mess with anyone who practices Voudoun, Yoruba, Candomble or Santeria. They can be pretty dang scary when they’re crossed. Mama Lua scared me, at least. I shuddered to think of what might have happened to the neighbors, if they had continued to harass her.
    Mama took three chicken eggs out of the hen coop and put them on her altar. Then she walked around her temple, bowing and lighting candles in each of the directions. When she returned to her altar, she lit a cigar and blew smoke in each direction, then she picked up a fan made of rooster feathers and came over to me.
    She blew smoke at and over me, circulating it with the feathers, as she circled around me. My eyes watered and I tried not to cough.
    Mama Lua put the rooster fan and the cigar back on the altar and picked up a bowl and one of the eggs. She set the bowl at my feet and ran the egg over my body, chanting in Yoruban.
    When she was done, she cracked the egg in the bowl.
    The yolk came out solid black.
    “Oh, my Gods…” that was me.
    “Holy shit…” that was Gus.
    “Bad juju. Very bad.” That was Mama Lua.
    “So I am cursed?”
    But Mama ignored me. She dumped the toxic egg remains into a pot of barren earth she kept next to the altar.
    Then she bowed to her altar three times, chanting in Yoruban and lit another candle. She picked up the fan and the cigar and blew more smoke at me, fanning it down the length of my body.
    Then she picked up a bottle of gin and circled me three times. Each time she was in