"Why should we? All we've done is come in to buy some... whatever the hell Harry wants" you said.
"Just do want I've asked. If your mother finds you here...." Samantha pleaded with some real urgency in her voice. It didn't move you; instead it fired you up.
"What is your problem with my mother? Or her problem with you?' you said, anger creeping into your voice.
"I cannot say" Samantha said, looking down.
"You know. Don't you. Tell me what is going on with my family!" you said, almost screaming.
"It will be my turn to get angry soon..." Samantha said, a flash of anger passing over her face. She took a breath and it composed her slightly. "It is not my right to tell you, John. Considering what is about to happen to you, I do not want to take the blame by either your mother, or by you."
"Damn it. Stop talking in riddles!" you yelled. After glaring at the witch for a few seconds, you turned to Harry. "Lets go. This is going nowhere."
"Agreed. Maybe you should had gotten a haircut" Harry said.
"Yeah. Or maybe Tim is right. The 'hag' is ...." you started to say, but you never got far. Witches never liked to be referred to as 'hags', and for Samantha, it was a berserk button. She yelled, 'Stop!;
"Nobody calls me a hag!" Samantha said, her lips pressed together into a thin snarl.
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