A Hoot and A Hex by Leanne Leeds EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Author: Leanne Leeds
- Language: English
- Genre: Mystery Series
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- Size: 2 MB
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The kitchen was a symphony of morning comforts, the rich scent of
strawberry pancakes curling through the air like a warm hug.
Sunlight spilled across the worn wooden table, casting a golden
glow on the faces of my sisters as we shuffled in, pulled by the promise of
Aunt Gwennie’s culinary magic.
“Coffee’s ready, loves,” Aunt Gwennie said in her musical lilt, shuffling
over to the table with a piping hot pot of dark roast. She began making the
rounds, topping off mugs and passing around syrup and butter.
Steam from the mug danced up to greet me as I drew the cup closer, the
rich, dark aroma promising a much-needed jolt of alertness. The kitchen
hummed with the melody of morning; my sisters’ laughter mingled with the
soft clatter of forks against plates. They leaned into the conversation, syrup
from their pancakes catching the light as it lazily trailed off their forks.
“So, Ami, are you excited about your date with Wyatt tonight?” Althea
asked, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
Ami’s cheeks flushed pink. “It’s just dinner, Thea,” she mumbled,
spearing a bite of pancake.
“Mm-hmm, just dinner,” Althea said with a knowing smirk. “Is that
what the kids are calling it these days?” She doled out teasing to her older
sister, seemingly oblivious to the irony.
“Oh hush, you,” Ami laughed, lobbing a balled up napkin across the
table.
With a dancer’s poise, Althea shifted her weight and leaned, letting the
projectile harmlessly whisk past her. Meanwhile, perched upon her
shoulder, her raven Lily launched into the air with a flutter of ebony wings.
I shook my head, hiding a smile behind my coffee mug. Playful gibes
flew between them, but it belied an affection running bone-deep.
“I heard Forkbridge is planning some kind of Roman festival for spring
break,” Ayla spoke up. “The mayor made a big announcement about it.
Anyone know what it’s all about?”
I nearly choked on my sip of coffee. “A Roman festival? Why would
Forkbridge, Florida, put on a Roman festival?”
“I don’t know why, but I do know they are, indeed,” Aunt Gwennie
confirmed as she settled into her chair with a plate full of pancakes. “Mayor
Marchand made quite the fuss about it at the town council meeting last
week. Calling it the ‘HilariaFest’ or some such. It took us all a good half an
hour to realize he wasn’t talking about that yoga instructor that married
Alec Baldwin or some stand-up comedy contest.”
“The Hilaria?” I repeated incredulously. “As in the ancient Roman
festival held on the ides of March to honor Cybele and Attis?”
“Okay, I’m impressed. How did you know that?” Ayla asked.
“Paranormopolis was my stomping ground,” I reminded her with a wry
smile, tossing out the name of the mystical metropolis that played hide and
seek from humankind under a cloak of invisibility spells and a ton of
bureaucratic red tape. “We knew about every paranormal holiday. Or tried
to.”
Aunt Gwennie shrugged. “The mayor was going on about celebrating
Forkbridge’s ‘Roman roots’ or some nonsense like that.”
“What Roman roots?” Ami asked. “Last I checked, Florida’s
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