“If that’s true, then I think you have more important matters to attend to than a few broken flowers.”
“I don’t know about that,” she replied. “Turning Al Geary into stone is a pretty serious matter, too.”
“True, but it doesn’t quite rise to the level of leprechaun genocide.”
Astrid plucked a piece of mulch from the ground and sniffed it.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “You can’t tell by smelling it.”
“Of course I can.” She tossed the mulch back into the garden. “Not made from actual leprechaun.”
“That’s a relief.” I took a moment to observe the damage. Most of the tacky items were in pieces on the ground. The spinners from the pinwheel were scattered everywhere, as well as fragments from smashed garden ornaments.
“Could be teenagers roaming the neighborhoods,” Astrid said.
“I doubt it,” I said. “Too much of a coincidence.” I realized that someone had taken the time to remove every white blossom from the bush closest to the driveway. “Whoever did this must’ve known Marty’s schedule.”
“What makes you say that?” the sheriff asked.
“Because taking off all those blossoms took time and the bush is right by the driveway.”
We walked the width of the yard to inspect the garden on the other side. Astrid kept her gaze on the ground, searching for evidence. She lurched when I gasped.
“What?” she said, spinning toward me.
I pointed to one of the green bushes that had been pruned into a phallic shape. “Do you think that was on purpose?”
“Well, I don’t think it naturally grows in that shape,” Astrid said.
“Do you think it’s a message?”
“A message that someone got overly enthusiastic with the pruning shears,” Astrid replied.
I shook my head. “Poor Marty. All his hard work.” It didn’t matter whether anyone else liked Marty’s garden. The fact was that he put a lot of time and effort into creating it and now it was ruined. “He must be so upset.”
Astrid motioned toward the door. “I guess we’ll find out in a minute.” She rapped on the door with her knuckles.
Marty answered quickly, his eyes rimmed with red and his nose swollen. His fist clenched a crumpled checkered handkerchief.
Sheriff Astrid drank in his appearance. “Is this a bad time, Mr. McTavish?”
“Of course it is,” the leprechaun practically shouted. “Have you seen my beautiful garden? It’s been decimated. I have no chance of winning the competition, and now I can’t even show off a nice garden to my neighbors.”
“I don’t think you could ever do that,” Astrid said under her breath.
“Who are these vandals?” Marty demanded. “Have you arrested anyone yet?”
“We’re trying to get to the bottom of it,” the sheriff said. “Have you seen anyone lingering or…”
“I saw nothing!” Marty interjected. “If I had, I would’ve taken the matter into my own hands.” He shoved the handkerchief into his pocket and rolled up his sleeves, revealing bony green arms. “It would’ve been vigilante justice—leprechaun style.”
“So you’d push his head into a pot of gold until he talked?” I asked.
Marty’s eyes widened. “Man, that’s dark.” He looked at Astrid. “Has she always been this dark or is it the pregnancy hormones?”
Astrid ignored him. “Have you had any disagreements recently? Anything that would provoke this kind of response?”
“You mean a penis shrub? That kind of response?” Marty asked. “I’ve been waiting for you to see it so I can get rid of it.” His eyes were hopeful. “Can I take care of it now?”
“After we leave,” Astrid said. “I want to make sure I do a final sweep for evidence.”
He let out a sigh of relief. “I’m so embarrassed. I make such an effort to create a thing of beauty. I don’t want my neighbors to see an erect shrub and think I’m tacky.”
If the neighbors didn’t think the garden was tacky before, I highly doubted a phallic shrub would push them over the edge.
“When’s the final day of this gardening competition?” Astrid asked.
“Supposed to be next week,” Marty said, “but I’ve heard rumblings of postponement because of everything going on.” He shifted his focus to me. “Do you think the vandalism is connected to what happened to Al?”
“It seems likely,” I said. “So far, the victims are all members of your gardening club and all of you are entering the competition.”
“Who knew gardening was such a cutthroat hobby?” Marty said. “I’ve always done it more for personal fulfillment. I mean, I’d like to win, of course, but it’s not the main reason I participate.”
Astrid took another peek at the state of the garden. “So far, you and Adam Clayton have been targeted.”
“And Mr. Geary,” I said, “which means Althea is innocent.”
“That’s assuming the crimes are connected,” Astrid countered. “Turning someone to stone is far more serious than vandalism. Different M.O.”
“There’s also trespassing,” Marty added.
“Whoever turned Albert Geary to stone is also a trespasser,” Astrid pointed out.
“Well, there’s destruction of property, too,” I said, “but I see your point.” Why would the culprit commit such a serious first crime, only to scale back later? Typically, criminals grow bolder the longer they go uncaught.
“I’ll have Britta monitor the homes of the other club members,” Astrid said. “Are there any other frontrunners for the competition? Anyone outside your group?”
Marty rubbed his pointy chin. “Not really. Some say Babs Hyatt is a dark horse, but I don’t think she has the chops. She plays it too safe.”
“Too safe?” I asked. “It’s a gardening competition, not gymnastics.”
“Babs likes her daisies and carnations.” He pretended to snore. “I mean, try a dahlia or a zinnia once in a blue moon, lady. It won’t kill you.”
“You certainly haven’t been afraid to experiment,” I said.
“You only live once.” He inhaled deeply, puffing out his feeble chest. “You know what? I’m going to take my own advice. I can whip this garden back to its glorious state in no time. It’ll feel good to start from scratch. Maybe I’ll even go in a different direction this time. Life is too short not to take chances.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” I said, heaping on the enthusiasm for the sake of his neighbors.
“I’ll take another look around the yard,” Astrid said, “but after that you’ll have free rein out here.”
“Thanks,” Marty said with a smile. I was glad to see the return of his cheerful expression. “Let me know if you find anything interesting. Maybe I’ll incorporate it into the next design.”
“Sure thing,” Astrid said.
Marty may have been handed a lemon in life, but I had a feeling he’d be growing lemon trees soon enough.
Between my visit to Spellslingers, my baby shower, and my conversation with Marty, my emotions were in overdrive. After a long nap after dinner and a crying jag, I decided to pay a visit to an old friend. The leprechaun had me thinking the rest of the day about taking chances in life. I wasn’t averse to the idea. I’d taken many risks since my arrival in Spellbound—telling Daniel that I had feelings for him, taking over Gareth’s role as a public defender when I had no experience in that area. Even the decision to have a baby was a risk. What if the baby changed my relationship with Daniel? What if something went wrong with the pregnancy or the birth itself? Arguably, waking up every morning and leaving the house was taking a chance that we’d make it back at the end of the day. I wanted to talk my complex feelings through with someone who would understand. Someone with her own complicated past—not that she’d be able to answer me.
Are you sure about this? Sedgwick asked. The owl flew overhead as I trudged through the woods. You’re guaranteed to trip over one of these tree roots in your con
dition.
“I’d trip over one of these roots whether I’m pregnant or not,” I replied.
I came to a stop when I reached the familiar cottage with its creepy boneyard and the skull above the front door. The yard appeared untouched since my last visit, not really a surprise. No one liked to venture to this isolated part of town.
Maybe you should have opted to visit in the light of day.
“I would have, but my nap ran over,” I said. “I was exhausted from the baby shower and my schedule’s been pretty busy between Althea and everything else.” I glanced skyward. “You're just scared to come here because you think it's haunted.”
Doubtful, Sedgwick replied. Need I remind you that the house we both occupy is haunted?
“That's different,” I said. “Gareth doesn't count.”
Why not? He's incorporeal. He's annoying. He's everywhere you don't want him to be. How is that not haunted?
“You know Raisa’s spirit isn’t here.” The old witch was now in the deep, dark recesses of the Underworld. Raisa had been the one to curse Spellbound and trap paranormals within the town borders. Despite her creepy and eccentric nature, she and I had become friends before the truth was discovered. Although she was already dead when I met her (it’s complicated), her spirit form disappeared when the curse was finally broken. As despised as she was, I still had a soft spot for her. I hated the thought of her spirit in a painful prison in another realm for all eternity. She would be the same in death as in life–alone.
She doesn't deserve your pity, Sedgwick said.
“It isn’t pity,” I said.
There’s no other explanation for it, the owl said. He circled above my head and I moved to the side in case he decided to take this disagreement to another level. The last thing I needed right now was bird poop in my hair. It was already extra oily thanks to pregnancy hormones.
I gazed at the lonely cottage. “It isn’t pity, Sedgwick. It’s compassion.”
What do you think she’d say about your baby?
“Honestly, I think she might have insight into what kind of baby this is,” I said. “Raisa knew a lot for a solitary witch.” She’d also known more about my family than she let on. At one point, my mother had tracked her as an agent for the Agency of Magical Forces.
You want to ask her about your father, don't you?
“If she were alive, I would. I wonder how much she really knew.” I made the mistake of trying to crouch down so that I could talk quietly to the bones. They weren’t hers, of course, but I figured residual energy remained. Unfortunately, my body was no longer designed for squatting, crouching, kneeling, or any other position that involved balance. I promptly fell backward, waving my arms and legs helplessly in the air like an overturned turtle.
Above me, Sedgwick chortled. That's better than Humpty Dumpty. I'd offer you a wing, Highness, but I don’t think I can pull you to your feet without risking life and limb.
Somehow, I managed to roll onto my side and push myself to a seated position on the ground. “I’m really glad Daniel is not here to see me right now. I’ve never been less attractive.”
I don't know, Sedgwick began. I can think of a few instances…
My head snapped upward. “Sedgwick! You're supposed to make a pregnant woman feel better about herself.”
The owl swooped down and perched on the bone fence. That dirt on your face really brings out the color of your eyes, he offered.
I wiped the dirt from my cheek and shook it out of my hair before addressing my friend. “Hi, Raisa. It's me, Emma. I guess you can tell that I'm having a baby.”
You’re huge, Sedgwick said. People in Milwaukee can see that you're having a baby.
I glared at him before returning my attention to the bones. “I know you're probably rolling your eyes right now…or your one good eye anyway.” Her other eye had a tendency to pop out of its socket on occasion. As gruesome as it was, I kind of missed it. “You would mock me for wanting to create this normal life with Daniel, yet I'd also sense how happy you are for me. You were never hateful, despite the awful things you did.”
Get to the point, Sedgwick said. It’ll be midnight before you know it.
“And what? My gown will turn back to rags? What’s your hurry?”
My hurry is that you’ll get a foot cramp and won’t be able to walk back to the car and I can’t lift you.
“Go find something to eat,” I said. “We’re in the middle of the forest and I know the minute we leave, you’ll complain that you’re hungry.” I waited for the owl to fly away before continuing. “I can't stop thinking about my father. Now that I know who he is and that he might be alive, I think I should at least meet him once, don't you think? Just because the AMF kept tabs on him doesn't mean he's evil incarnate. Who knows? Even if he was, it’s been such a long time, maybe he’s redeemed himself. Change is always possible. I think you would agree with that.”
I paused as though the old witch might actually answer.
“On the other hand, what if he's irredeemable? What if I introduce an evil element into my baby's life? My mother gave me up to keep me safe. I don't know for sure that she was protecting me from my father—I'll probably never know with certainty, so I need to make the choice without all the information.” I paused. “And it's scary.”
A gust of wind blew past me and a few leaves collected at my feet.
“Sometimes I try to imagine what you’d say if you were here,” I said. Raisa had a way of cutting through the minotaur shit when she wasn’t busy hiding her own secrets. “I think you’d call me ‘my dear’ and tell me to go for it. You were a risk-taker and I think you saw that potential in me, too.”
A lump formed in my throat.
“Did you know my grandmother is a goddess? Nyx is a pretty cool name, but I think she’d be pretty scary in a dark alley…or in a fully lit room for that matter. I wonder if my father is anything like her.” I hesitated. “I wonder if I’m anything like her.”
A cloud passed overhead, causing moonlight to shine directly on the boneyard.
“I promise to visit you more often,” I said. “Even after the baby’s born. I’ll even bring the little one here to meet you. We can bring a blanket and have picnics.”
I sat in contemplative silence, remembering Raisa’s raspy voice and her strange cackle. It seemed odd to still want to feel the presence of someone with such a sordid past, but that was probably the reason I felt compelled to share my angst with her. Of all the paranormals I knew, she would understand.
“Well, my butt is numb and I have to pee, so I guess that’s my cue to leave.” I gripped the nearby fence and pulled myself to my feet with a groan. Then I shook the pins and needles out of my legs.
It’s like watching a giant troll perform ballet, Sedgwick said.
“Perfect timing,” I said, ignoring his comment. “I’m ready to go home.” I’d taken longer than expected and I didn’t want Daniel to worry. Gareth, of course, would worry no matter what.
I shall lead the way, my fair lady, Sedgwick trumpeted. He swooped in front of me. Consider me your guiding light.
“Sure thing, Rudolph.” I waddled behind him, careful not to trip.
Whatever that means, I shall take it as a compliment.
“You should,” I replied. “It means you’ll go down in history.”
I’m not sure I like the sound of that. Being a part of history implies that I’m dead.
“We all have to go sometime, Sedgwick,” I said. “Might as well get used to the idea.”
Sedgwick craned his neck to look at me. If these visits to Raisa are going to make you overly comfortable with death, I highly suggest we end them here and now.
“I find it calming.”
I find it creepy.
“I’ll show you creepy,” I said. In the middle of the silent forest, I whistled a haunting rendition of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer all the way to my car. The result was so eerie that the hair on my own arms stood on end. I slid inside the
car and locked the door for good measure.
Please don’t ever do that again, Sedgwick said.
I gunned the magical engine. “Deal,” I croaked.
Chapter Seventeen
The day of the vote was finally here. Millie vibrated with nerves all the way to the academy assembly hall, where Jamison Briar once again stopped us at the entrance for our IDs.
“Has there been a viable threat against the coven?” I teased.
“Security is about more than danger,” Jamison said. “It’s about keeping out non-coven members and preserving the integrity of the system.”
“I can’t imagine anyone sneaking in here to watch these speeches,” Sophie said. “It’ll be hard enough for us to sit through them.”
Millie whipped around to look at her. “Hey!”
“Except yours, of course,” Sophie added quickly with a sheepish smile.
We fished out our ID cards and showed them to Jamison.
“I hope we don't have assigned seats again,” Laurel said. “I don't like to be told where to sit.”
Begonia patted her on the back. “She may have lost the rebellious clothes and makeup, but she still has the spirit.”
The assembly hall was already three-quarters full. Sure enough, there were assigned seats. Helpful voices called out to alert us to our respective locations.
“Limpet should really use a numbering system and give us our seats in advance,” Laurel said. “That way we don't have to scramble to find them.”
Millie gripped my arm. “Do you really think the spell is going to work?”
Begonia shushed her. “You just get up there and be the best Millie you can be. We’ll take care of the rest.” She tapped the tote bag slung over her shoulder that housed Voodoo Millie.
Millie paled. “Maybe we should just forget it. I'm sure Rodrigo is going to win anyway. Everyone keeps talking about his soothing voice. We all know I don't have a soothing voice.”
“Nonsense,” Laurel said. “The voice of the coven isn't about your actual voice. It's about how you handle yourself and how well you represent the coven.”
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