The Line (Witching Savannah, #1)

by J.D. Horn

You didn’t need to be a witch, or even a psychic, to see spirits in Savannah—you just had to pay attention.

The pendulum was Connor’s connection to power, even if it was a weak one. Most true witches have a few gifts in common—with focus, just about all of them can read the thoughts of non-witches, and most can move things without having to touch them. But witches tend to be particularly skilled in one or two specific areas. Connor was weak as water in most things, but he could use his pendulum to track down just about anything, from a missing pair of glasses to a missing child. I knew without asking that he was looking for the murder weapon.

Psychometry was Aunt Iris’s specialty. She could hold any object and tell you about its owner or anyone who had a tangential relationship with it.

I ignored the request for a wardrobe change. I was not about to be bossed around by a mud pie with an attitude.

“You are a mystery, Mercy Taylor, to all of us,” he said.

The misery of the past roiled from the building like heat off a blacktop.