Witchy Dreams

by Amanda M. Lee

  The silence was interrupted by a loud bang on the other side of the door. I jumped. Griffin did, too. I could hear loud voices outside of the mausoleum.

  “Aidan,” I breathed.

  “I think he has backup,” Griffin agreed, craning his neck to hear more. The voices weren’t clear, but there was definitely more than one person yelling on the other side of the door.

  I glanced at Genevieve; she looked alarmed by the sudden disruption in our conversation. “Who is that?”

  Hope swelled again. “My family.”

  “I am your family.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  The mausoleum door flew open; only it wasn’t Aidan standing there. Cormack Grimlock is a terrifying man under normal circumstances. Threaten one of his children, though, and there is no measure for his rage.

  Dad’s eyes flitted over to me, checking to make sure I was okay, before focusing on Genevieve. “I think you’ll find that your first mistake was touching my daughter,” he growled, brandishing a sword and repeating the words I had heard Aidan say only a night before. This is why he has so many “heirlooms” in the house, I thought, fighting the smile that was taking over my face. Boys like their toys. “I think you’ll find your second mistake was underestimating exactly what I would do to get her back.”

  “You’re no threat to me,” Genevieve said, although she didn’t look convinced. “I am the end of time.”

  Four other figures – all familiar – tumbled into the mausoleum behind my father. Each carried a sword and breathed heavily. Dad didn’t move his eyes from Genevieve’s face, though. He was focused.

  “Then let’s end your time,” Dad said, his face grim. The sword flashed forward, slamming into Genevieve’s chest.

  For one breathless moment, I thought it was over. Unlike the wraiths, though, she didn’t crumble into dust. The only change in her demeanor was a crazy laugh. “I am immortal.”

  Dad frowned, pulling the sword back. Instead of the red blood you would expect, the liquid coating the blade was black.

  “Chop off her head,” Redmond suggested. “Let’s see her survive that.”

  Dad didn’t need to be told twice. He reared back, this time taking a wide arc. Genevieve’s eyes flashed in surprise, worry reflected there for a split second, before the sword hit its mark and separated her head from her shoulders.

  Genevieve’s head hit the ground with thump, her body tumbling beside it a second later. It wasn’t long before both started oozing and melting into the floor.

  Gross.

  Now it was over.

  Thirty-Nine

  Dad was sitting at his desk, flipping through the newspaper, when I finally mustered the courage to approach him.

  It had been three days since the unfortunate events in the mausoleum, and the good news was that my brothers and father had finally started to calm down. Let me tell you, seventy-two hours of recriminations and intelligence jabs are not fun.

  Since he hadn’t noticed me I knocked on the door to get his attention. Dad glanced up, dropping the paper and motioning for me to enter. “Is something wrong?”

  “No,” I shook my head. “I just thought you should have this.”

  I had told Genevieve’s story multiple times since my rescue, but for some reason I had left out the part about the ring each time. Now, though, I knew it was time. I placed the ring on his desk and took a step back.

  I expected yelling. I expected anger. I expected accusations. Quite frankly, I expected him to try to ground me. What I got was tears.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “Genevieve had it,” I said.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I searched his face, but there was no anger there. “I don’t know.”

  Dad fingered the ring, reading the words inside the band, and then clasped it in his hand. “It’s hard to fathom,” he said after a moment. “Your mother was alive, and I didn’t know it.”

  “How could you?” I asked, slipping into one of the chairs across from his desk.

  “When two souls collide and latch on to each other, you should know.”

  That seemed like a heavy burden. “If you should have known, then I should have known, too. She was my mother.”

  Dad smiled, the expression surprising me. “You may have been her daughter, but the connection we shared was different.”

  “Different how?”

  “Not greater. Not better. Just different. You’ll understand. Someday soon, if I read Detective Taylor’s intentions correctly.”

  I blushed. “I haven’t spoken to him since it happened. I think we freaked him out. He’s done. I think you’re reading the situation wrong.”

  Dad sighed. “That man sat outside your condominium to make sure you were safe,” he said. “He kept our secret. He sat through two meals with your brothers – even though they were nothing but obnoxious to him. This whole situation may have confused the lad, but it hasn’t deterred him.”

  “How can you be sure?” I tried to keep the hope from overtaking me.

  “Because you’re not that easy to forget,” he replied.

  “How do you know that?” I asked curiously.

  “Because you are your mother’s daughter.”

  I smiled, despite myself. “Not just hers, Dad.”

  LATER THAT night I was enjoying having the condo to myself – the fourth season of The Walking Dead in the Blu-Ray player -- when there was a knock at the door. I hit the pause button, biting my lower lip as I considered who could be on the other side.

  No wraiths had been sighted since Genevieve’s demise – and my brothers had managed to sweep out the goo so none of the Olivets would notice the mess – but I was still momentarily scared.

  I tamped down the fear and moved toward the door, peering through the peephole before unlocking it. The figure standing on the other side was a welcome – if terrifying – one.

  I took a deep breath, glanced down at my furry Hello Kitty pajama bottoms, and ran a hand through my hair. What the hell? I opened the door and came face to face with Griffin.

  “Hey,” I greeted him, hating how timid I sounded.

  “Hey.” He seemed just as nervous.

  We both stood there awkwardly for a minute.

  “Um, do you want to come in?”

  “Sure.”

  I opened the door wider, letting Griffin in – my body tensing as we brushed together – and then closed the door behind him. When I finally gathered my courage and looked up, he wasn’t there.

  I wandered into the living room. He was standing in front of the television, his eyes trained on the screen. “This is a great show.”

  “It’s one of my favorites,” I agreed.

  “Who is your favorite character?”

  “Daryl.”

  “I like Rick.”

  I laughed. “Of course you do; he’s a cop.”

  Griffin lifted his eyes to meet mine. “Right, because only a cop could like another cop.”

  I couldn’t believe how nervous I was. “So, um, how are you?”

  “How are you?”

  “I asked first.”

  Griffin smirked. “I’m okay.”

  “Good.”

  “How are you?” He repeated.

  “I’m better.”

  “Better than what?”

  “Better than I was,” I admitted. I considered sitting on the couch, but that seemed the wrong move. Instead, I stood there like an idiot, my hands clenched at my sides.

  “You’re okay, right?” Griffin seemed stuck on repeat.

  “I’m better than okay,” I said, and it was the truth.

  Griffin looked confused.

  “I gave my dad the ring tonight,” I said. “I hadn’t told him about it for some reason. I don’t know why.”

  “Do you know why now?” Griffin looked curious.

  “Fear? Is that a lame answer?”

  “No,” Griffin shook his head. “I think that’s understandable. How di
d he take it?”

  “I thought he would be angry.”

  Griffin waited.

  “He cried.”

  Griffin swished his lips to the side. “That sounds about right.”

  “How?”

  “He’s got a piece of her back, another piece anyway.”

  I realized what he was saying. “Another piece besides me, you mean.”

  “Yes.”

  “I never understood before,” I said, my emotions running deep.

  “Understood what?”

  “I always thought he hated having a daughter,” I said. “I thought he would have been happier if I was a boy.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I still think it would have been easier if I was a boy,” I replied, the realization not filling me with anger for a change. “I just don’t think he wishes I was a boy.”

  “That’s progress, right?”

  “It is,” I agreed.

  “If it’s any conciliation, I’m pretty happy you’re not a boy.”

  My heart started thumping harder. “And why is that?”

  “Because, if you were a boy, I would feel pretty stupid doing this.” Griffin was across the room, his mouth on mine, before I had a chance to think about what was going to happen. The kiss was deep, full of yearning and more combustible heat than I ever thought possible. I sank into it, despite the misgivings tickling the back of my mind. Exactly how was this going to work?

  Griffin’s hands were at my waist, tugging at the hem of my shirt. I pulled back, despite the hormones coursing through my body. “Are you going to run away tomorrow morning?”

  Griffin’s lips pressed back against mine, not bothering to answer. I couldn’t go through that again, though, so I pulled back.

  “I’m serious.”

  Griffin smiled, clearly enjoying my consternation. “Aisling?”

  “Yeah?” I was having trouble catching my breath.

  “Shut up.”

  This time I didn’t fight Griffin’s intentions – or his mouth. I just let myself fall. Again.

  The Bigfoot Blunder

  A Charlie Rhodes Cozy Mystery

  Prologue

  13 years ago

  “Math is stupid.”

  Kate Rhodes arched an eyebrow, her powder blue eyes full of mirth as she glanced up from the dishwasher she was emptying and fixed her only daughter with a dubious look.

  Charlotte “Charlie” Rhodes, her long dark hair standing up at odd angles because she’d been dragging her hands through it for hours, stood on the other side of the kitchen island. She had a fascinating way of looking at life – as only a ten-year-old could – and Kate always got a kick out of talking to the youngster. Charlie had a lot of gripes when it came to her existence, but they were almost always entertaining.

  “Math is important,” Kate argued, adopting a pragmatic tone. “You won’t get very far in life if you don’t know how to multiply … or figure out sales tax when it comes time to go shopping.”

  “I don’t care about multiplication,” Charlie shot back. “I have a calculator. That’s all I need.”

  Kate was famous for her patience, which almost never frayed. A little thing like pre-teen angst wasn’t going to send her over the edge. “Did you finish your homework?”

  Charlie rolled her eyes and Kate had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smirking. “Why do you think I hate math?”

  “That wasn’t an answer.”

  “Yes, Mom. I finished my math. Geez.” Charlie, a lovely child on most occasions, wielded a deft hand when it came to delivering snark.

  Kate’s husband, Caleb, picked that moment to stroll into the kitchen, an empty pie plate in his hand. He stepped around his wife so he could rinse it, sliding the plate into the dishwasher while glancing between his wife and daughter.

  “Geez, Louise,” Caleb teased, smirking as Charlie made an exasperated face. “What are you complaining about now, my little terror?”

  “I’m not little,” Charlie argued. “I’m growing up. I even can wear Mom’s shoes now. I know, because I tried them on and only fell once because of the heels.”

  “She can,” Kate agreed, bobbing her head. “She has to put on only three pairs of socks to get them to fit, but they look amazing otherwise.”

  “Oh, well, that sounds lovely.” Caleb rested his elbows on the counter and leaned closer. “Did you do your homework?”

  Charlie let loose a long-suffering sigh only preteens can pull off without risking public mocking. Anyone trying to sigh like that in the real world would get fired … or punched in the face. “I finished my homework. Don’t I always finish my homework?”

  “No.” Caleb didn’t hesitate before answering. “In fact, when your mother and I went to parent-teacher conferences your teacher told us that you’ve been pretty lax in your homework over the past few months. That’s why we’re always asking about your homework.”

  “Yes, well, Mrs. Butter Butt should mind her own business,” Charlie grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and averting her gaze.

  “Mrs. Butterfield is a perfectly nice woman. You’re the one in the wrong here,” Kate clarified, her tone stern. “She’s right in this instance, Charlie. “She says you’re distracted, and she’s worried about you. Do you want to tell us what’s distracting you?”

  In truth, Mrs. Butterfield explained to the Rhodes that Charlie was her brightest student. She also was prone to staring out windows and completely losing her train of thought in the middle of a lecture. Mrs. Butterfield suggested having Charlie tested for potential learning disabilities, but Kate didn’t believe for a second that Charlie’s problem was medical or mental. Charlie simply refused to apply herself.

  “I’m not distracted,” Charlie snapped. “I don’t know why she says that.”

  “She says it because you’re too smart to be getting Cs and Ds,” Caleb argued. “I agree that your problem is internal and something you can easily fix. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried, though. Is it a boy?”

  Charlie made an exaggerated face. “It’s not a boy.”

  “That’s good.” Caleb’s grin was mischievous. “I don’t believe I’m ready to share you yet. When you do find a boy, keep in mind that girls always fall in love with their fathers. That means I have to approve of your boyfriend.”

  “Oh, geez!” Charlie stared at the ceiling as she rubbed her nose. “It’s not my fault that math is stupid. I don’t know how you can expect me to focus on math when it’s just so … stupid.”

  “It sounds like you’re having a problem with your vocabulary lessons, too,” Kate teased, pushing a strand of Charlie’s flyaway hair from her face. “If there’s something wrong, you can tell us. We’ll fix it together.”

  “We will,” Caleb agreed. “You have to tell us before we can help, though.”

  Charlie pressed her lips together and exhaled heavily through her nose, reminding Kate of a bull as the girl shifted from one foot to the other. “There’s nothing wrong.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Kate said, maintaining a level demeanor. “But you’re clearly not ready to talk about it. We’ll be here when you’re ready to talk. It’s okay. If you don’t want to confide in us we’ll simply wait until you are ready.”

  “It’s not that,” Charlie said, shaking her head as guilt swamped her. Her parents never yelled or threatened. They were always reasonable. Things would be easier if they weren’t always so reasonable. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “Then I look forward to you doing better in school,” Caleb pressed. “If there’s nothing wrong, you have no excuse.”

  “And if there is something wrong, all you have to do is tell us,” Kate added.

  “There’s nothing wrong.” Charlie gritted out the words before turning on her heel and stalking toward the hallway. Her shoulder brushed against the doorjamb as she did and she reached out to steady herself, myriad images she couldn’t untangle slamming into her head and causing her to jolt si
deways.

  Concerned at the way his daughter moved, Caleb rushed toward her, catching the thin girl around the waist before she could flop backward and hit her head on the kitchen island. “What is it, Charlie?”

  Charlie didn’t immediately answer, her eyes rolling back in her head. Kate panicked when she saw the girl staring into nothing, her fingers shaking, and looked for the cordless phone. “Oh, my … she’s having a seizure! I’ll call 911.”

  “I’m not sure she’s having a seizure,” Caleb gritted out, his expression serious. He gripped Charlie’s shoulders, but except for her shaking fingers she didn’t so much as twitch.

  “Is she breathing?” Kate asked, fumbling for the phone.

  “She is.” Caleb bobbed his head. “In fact, I think she’s … .”

  As if on cue, Charlie bolted into a sitting position, her eyes back to normal but her pallor unearthly white. “Call for help,” she blurted out, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “The Fitzgerald house is on fire.”

  Caleb remained where he was, staring at Charlie with a dubious expression on his face. “The Fitzgerald house? You mean next door? How can you possibly know that?”

  “I just do.” Charlie’s eyes filled with tears as she gripped her hands into tight fists. “I’m not lying. Mrs. Fitzgerald is trapped in the house. She can’t get out. She’s … screaming!”

  Caleb shot a worried glance at Kate, rubbing Charlie’s shoulders before releasing them and rising to his full height. “I’ll go look.”

  “You’ll be too late,” Charlie screeched, her voice breaking. “She’s going to be gone … and soon!”

  “Charlie, calm down.” Caleb forced a smile before disappearing into the hallway. “I’m sure the Fitzgerald house is fine. You just … imagined the fire or something. I think you fainted.”

  Kate kept the phone in her hand as she stared at the back of Charlie’s head. Despite Caleb’s misgivings, she believed Charlie. Kate had no knowledge of the house next door being on fire, or the elderly woman trapped inside, but she instinctively believed Charlie.