Nine Lives: A Paranormal Adventure (Bad Tom Series Book 3)

by Jill Nojack

  I wriggle my backside restlessly to bring back circulation, hoping the ride ends soon. Maybe the lack of blood in my butt has given an extra splash to my brain, because I come up with what seems like a pretty good idea that may even be safe. I say, "I've got a way you can see Robert without putting yourself at risk. How about you and I attend the next city council meeting? Aren't they every Tuesday?"

  Although she can't turn back to me as she maneuvers the car around a turn, I hear the smile in her voice. "They are. And I've been meaning to get more involved with city politics."

  As soon as I open the shop door, Nat breezes in wearing a fitted black pantsuit with black knee-high boots, her hair covered by a red chiffon scarf like some old-time movie star. She greets me with, "Morning, Cass. I'm here for another day of slaving away to serve the magical needs of the Giles community."

  I walk outside to make sure Gillian isn't coming, too. I was sure it was Gillian's car I saw pulling up. I sent her a text yesterday morning to let her know her services are no longer needed, and that I had better never see her in the store again, either. But she's always interfering in my business, so I'm not convinced she'll stay away.

  She's not outside, though. I make certain of that as I take a good long look one way and then another, standing on the sidewalk before I walk back inside.

  "Heard from Gillian?" I ask as Nat hangs her jacket on a peg behind the counter, folds her scarf and stuffs it into a jacket pocket, and starts tidying what I thought was an already tidy counter.

  "I did, dear. In fact, she dropped me off. But she let me know I'd have to find my own ride from now on. It was the most confusing thing." She bends down to chuck Blackie under the chin when he gets out of his basket and goes to greet her. "She said that she wouldn't be able to work in the shop any more and that was that. End of the conversation. Is there more to this story? Have you two fallen out?"

  "I don't want to talk about it, Nat."

  She gives me a you've-got-me-curious-now look, but I just walk into the back and grab my things, calling over my shoulder, "Come on, Blackie. It's time to go to work."

  I need to get to the gallery. At least there won't be kisses making me late anymore.

  I walk briskly down the street, my faithful Blackie capering at my heels. I'm glad to be leaving the shop behind, although I'm not thrilled that Natalie is looking after it. She'll be poking her nose into everything.

  Hmmm…I wonder if a wart growing on the end of it would remind her to keep it out of things that don't concern her? I know how to remove one now. I wonder if I could reverse the spell to make one appear?

  ***

  I lower the hatch in the Gallery's back room and make sure the oriental carpet on top looks natural after Dash disappears down the stairs where he's been spending his lunch hour lately. I ducked out for a quick play break with Blackie and feel refreshed, ready to face the lunch hour art-gazers.

  He'll be back up soon, but until then, the last thing my kindly boss needs is for his secret place to be discovered. It hides the town's most precious secret, and it's too early for it to be revealed. Even I don't even know what it is, but I feel safe when I'm at the gallery in a way that I don't when I'm at home. I know that adjustments have to be made in Giles, and I feel sure that I'll be an important part of them.

  When I'm satisfied that the hiding place is secure, I move to the curtain that covers the entryway into the gallery and brush it aside to discover our security has been breached.

  It's that busybody, Natalie. I can't imagine why I ever liked her.

  "Nat, we're closed for lunch. How did you get in? That door was locked. And why aren't you at the shop?"

  She looks taken aback when I confront her, but I don't buy it. She's cagey. One to watch.

  "It wasn't, dear. I walked right in. And I get a lunch hour, too, don't I? The "Out to Lunch" sign is up. I'd like to talk to Dash about the possibility of selling a few of my recent paintings. I've been prolific lately, and I certainly don't have room to store them. He's been able to move them in the past."

  "He's not here."

  "Oh. My mistake." She looks out the front display window and inclines her head toward Dash's cute but ridiculously tiny, yellow vintage sports car. "I felt sure that if his car was here, he'd be here. I don't think he even lets Jon drive the MG. Strange that he would run off without it."

  "He's doing errands downtown. It would be silly to drive."

  "Oh? Where exactly? Maybe I could catch up with him."

  "I don't know, Nat. You need to leave. I want to go to lunch myself."

  I can tell she hears the same slight scuffling I do from the back now by the "gotcha" expression on her face. "Are you sure he's not here?"

  She starts for the curtain, but I head her off.

  "I'm sure."

  And then Dash pushes the curtain aside and nearly runs smack into her.

  She smiles. "Dash, what a surprise! I was wondering if you'd be willing to take a few of my pieces this winter? I heard you're going to be working more closely with the local artists again."

  He pushes her aside. "I don't have time for this. We're closed." He urges her toward the door with a hand on her back.

  Blackie and Flower, Blackie's litter mate, follow behind him. Jon must have stayed downstairs.

  Natalie glances down to the dogs, then turns her eyes back to Dash. "Fine. I'll check with one of the galleries in Salem. They always do better for me money-wise anyway. I just thought I'd give a local business the opportunity first."

  Flower jumps up on the leg of Natalie's black pantsuit before she turns. Her tail wags happily, but instead of a pat, she gets a shove and a muttered, "Great pandering pentacles! What's the world coming to when everyone in town has to keep pets in their shops? What's next? Polly in the diner?"

  Flower really wants her attention, but Natalie avoids looking at her. Then she's out the door with that nose she sticks into everything totally out of joint.

  ***

  "Come on, girl. That's right…" Flower bounds into my arms. Dash smiles, approving. Blackie looks like he's jealous, but he won't be for long. Little Flower isn't for me. I wish she was, but no, there are other plans and plans must be followed. Flower is about to have a new owner.

  Blackie follows at my heels as I walk to the Magical Shop with Flower licking my face and wagging her tail the whole way. I'm sure she won't be as pleased with her new mistress. Who could be? I can't imagine Natalie being really kind to anyone or anything, not even a sweet little puppy. But that's who Dash says she's for, so there's nothing I can do.

  The "Out to Lunch" sign is still on the door, which is exactly what I wanted. I know the perfect spot for Flower to conceal herself until the old witch returns. I set Flower down while I unlock the door. Both she and Blackie sit there looking serious, staring up at the lock as I slide the key in. As soon as it swings open, they both dart inside. So cute. Maybe I can have both of them once Natalie is no longer needed.

  I step behind the counter and open the wooden cask where we keep the purification power. It's a popular item because most spells do better if you perform a cleansing first. There are a lot of spells cast in Giles. We sell it in bulk.

  Yes, it's perfect. With the powder lifted out in its inner plastic bag and stored away until the barrel is free again, and plenty of air coming in from the finger holes we use to raise the lid, Flower will be comfortable while she waits. Nat will have to open the barrel when she starts the afternoon stocking and sees the bags of the stuff we keep on the counter have all been sold. When she does, she'll be looking right into Flower's eyes. And what amazing eyes she has.

  I make my way back down the street with Blackie trailing, the last three bags of purification powder stuffed in the bottom of my purse.

  ***

  Natalie's standing behind the counter when I return to the shop at dusk. I can't tell right away if she's met Flower or not. Then Flower struts around the edge of the counter. Her tail wags for a job well done.

&nbs
p; "How were things in the afternoon?" I ask.

  "Better than I would have expected, dear. I got such a delightful surprise when I started the restocking."

  "There's a council meeting tonight that we should attend," I say.

  Her eyes flick up for a second as if she's remembering something, and then she says, "Yes. But I'll have to change my plans. I need to make a call."

  She doesn't move off for privacy. Why should there be secrets between us? We belong to the same tribe now.

  "Gillian? I won't be at dinner tonight. I've made other plans." She listens for a moment. "No…not tomorrow, either. I expect to be busy. Too busy for your silly heartache over Robert, I'm afraid."

  I smile. She's done well. "I'll make us dinner before we go."

  Cat is trying to convince me its time to find a warm spot to take a nap, and I'm nearly ready to give in. I feel like I've peered in at every window in town. But all my sneaky-peeping has gotten me is yelled at, and, in one notable instance, beaned with a shoe. An older, classic wingtip. A nice one. I thought about setting up a good howl and trying for the other one, but how would I get them back to Nat's? It's not like Cat's got pockets built into his fur coat.

  It starts spitting small seeds of cold rain, and I dart under a car to get out of the wet. Cat is perfectly willing to sneak around and poke into things that don't concern him, but when it involves getting soaked he stops being cooperative. I'm not going to be able to convince him to play along again until it lets up a little, so I let him go to ground. But I stay alert for the sound of someone approaching. No nap possible here. The last thing I need is to blow my last life under the wheels of somebody's Dodge because I didn't stay alert for an approaching driver.

  Then, whoa! I've lucked out.

  A small black form pads along across the wet, gray sidewalk, following a pair of sensible low heels. I know those rundown heels. They belong to Eunice's sycophant Zelda. Well, of course she'd be in on this. Wherever Eunice went, she was never far behind. And…wait for it…yes, the daughter is cruising along in her wake in stilettos. Those two were always in the thick of it when Eunice ran the town. And they're obviously still in the thick of it.

  So, they've got one pup. That's three accounted for. Where are the final two?

  I force cat to stick his head out into the rain for a better look around, but the street is empty now. Most of the shops are closed. The only thing with lights on is the art gallery. Cat shakes his head, annoyed, to sluff off the tiny drops that slide down his ears.

  If I had my own heart right now instead of Cat's small, unemotional one, it would skip a beat as Cass walks out of the gallery with that dog, Blackie, behind her. They're followed by Dash, Jon, and another black pup.

  Good. Four down. I've only got to find one more. Or, at least just one more that I know about. But what would Anat want with Dash? He and Jon aren't even magical practitioners. They're just guys.

  I don't like this one bit. Cassie, Dash, Zelda, Robert—what do they have in common? I understand Anat targeting the coven members. But where does Dash come into this?

  I'm not going to get any answers tonight. Dash walks down the street to his canary yellow toy car, and Cassie walks toward the shop. She doesn't seem to notice the rain. Normally, she'd be sticking her hands in her armpits and complaining about the cold and hustling along to keep warm. But she's moving slowly now, head erect. She looks like a zombie.

  I've got to get her away from that dog.

  ***

  I scramble up the tree next to the house, hoping Cass has opened the window or at least pulled up the blinds. The lights are on inside, and the TV is blaring, but the blinds are still drawn, leaving me with nothing but a rectangular spot of light in the gray dusk.

  I sit patiently, staring the blinds down while getting a lick in here and there to keep my fur gleaming. It's stable enough on this wide branch and I'm starting to get bored, so I let Cat go on a grooming binge. He's got a back leg stretched out in the air for balance, claws extended, while he sits doubled over to work at the inside base of his tail.

  A black muzzle pushes up the blinds at the bottom and a set of black paws appears on the inside ledge. Then, a small head appears. Cat is instantly on his feet, ready for a showdown. He bristles.

  Its eyes are just big, brown, puppy eyes at first. Then they glow faintly red.

  And in my heart, I know that mama demon knows I'm here. I can't stay here and wait around for her to come barking up this tree. Before I have time to turn and shimmy down to the ground, the blinds pull up and Cassie and Natalie are both looking out at me, the same shared, blank, look in their eyes. Another pup jumps up next to the first one.

  Number five. All present and accounted for.

  I scramble down and take off for Nat's. It's pretty clear she's no longer an asset, and I need to get my stuff out of there before she keeps me from getting to it. I don't care about my clothes, but I need my wallet. It contains the receipt: I'm not giving up on that ring.

  And I'm not giving up on Cassie.

  This is just another pothole in the road to happiness. A pothole. Not a sinkhole. Not a yawning chasm.

  Pothole.

  The rain starts again. The droplets have turned to tiny ice cubes now. They stick to Cat's coat and leave icy patches on the sidewalk and the road.

  But I'm not stopping, and Cat stops protesting about how hard I'm pushing him when I flash him the memory of what happened the first time we went up against the creature with the glowing red eyes.

  Neither one of us has forgotten the snap, the end of pain, the blackness.

  Local council meetings aren't usually my thing. In fact, I've never gone to one before, because my Granny never liked them, and I liked what Granny liked. But I'm enjoying this one. Natalie is silent, which never happens, and Blackie is sitting quietly at my feet. Such a good dog.

  Robert stands behind the council table in front of the group of townspeople who've come to discuss the festival. I expect it's a larger group than usual—that horrid Gillian told me once that the city council usually talks to itself at the public hearings. She's here with Tom. No surprise there.

  Tom better watch his woman, though. Because she doesn't seem to be able to keep her eyes off Robert.

  No one is much interested in the town governance as long as they can go about their business without interference. Robert's seen to it that what they expect is what happens. But many residents make good money at the Witching Faire—I remember how much Granny looked forward to her receipts that day.

  Robert looks down at a sheet of paper and then says, "Next on the agenda—and this is really what we're all here for, I believe—let's pull out all the stops at this year's Faire. The event is now a shadow of what it was in Giles's heyday. I remember when I was a boy, every resident turned out. I want to see that happen again."

  There's some clapping and a couple of here-here's. Then I realize that's Natalie and I. We're enthusiastic supporters of the plan. The minute Robert says it, it just sounds right.

  "What I'd like from you, since you all know your neighbors so well, are some ideas about what would bring everyone downtown for the event."

  People raise their hands to be recognized at first, but it soon becomes unruly with people just shouting out. The ideas come thick and fast.

  "Give away something everyone will want," says one.

  "A nice frozen turkey just before Thanksgiving would go over well."

  "Better yet, how about a chance to win a trip? A winter getaway to someplace warm!"

  "I say just give 'em money to spend. In fact, gimme mine right now. I promise I'll be there." Scattered laughter follows.

  Nat stands up. "I don't think any of that is big enough to get everyone in town out for the day. But what about raffling off the old Stanford mansion? Didn't you say earlier that no one knows what to do about it now that it's been left to the city, and the upkeep is costing a fortune? I know they say the old place is haunted, but I'd bet the residents of Giles wo
uld be thrilled to get a chance at winning the grand old place. I know I would. This could be a much better use for it than turning it into a museum no one wants or letting it decay into an eyesore."

  Robert smiles and looks around at the other counsel members. "That's a fine plan, Nat. Very fine, indeed. The city gets rid of its white elephant, and someone who isn't afraid of a few ghosts gets a fine home or a chance to fix it up and sell it on at a profit, one of the two." The other council members' heads nod in agreement.

  Robert bangs his gavel. "It's decided. The Stanford mansion is up for grabs to any resident who attends the fair, fills out a raffle ticket, and stays for the drawing. I can't see anyone staying home for this one."

  Tom looks at me as people start to gather in small groups before filtering out. I turn away to find my litter mates and we gather in our own group around Robert. He glad-hands his cronies and townspeople alike, then, when they're all gone, he turns to us and smiles. I don't think he even noticed our exes were here.

  "That worked like a charm. Now, let's talk about the real event."

  I walk over to close the door and then return to the small circle of witches.

  I twist my head back over my shoulder to see how things look in the mirror from back there, and I have to say I'm pleased. My costume for the Witching Faire clings in all the right places. I went through one of the trunks of Eunice's old clothes I'd put aside and found an elegant black dress from her youth, fitted from the shoulder all the way to the ground, with a wide slit at the knee running down the left side so that I can still walk comfortably.

  With a black witch's hat and a wooden wand from the more touristy items in the shop, I'm definitely in the spirit. And Blackie's matching hat, rakishly affixed at an angle, is adorable. I admire us both in the mirror for a long while. It takes my phone ringing to bring me back to myself. Goodness. Mesmerized by my own appearance.