by Rhys Ford
“Isn’t it enough that I want to spend time with you?” She tilted her head to the side, giving him puppy-dog eyes that would break his heart if she didn’t use them all the time to get her way.
“Sweetie, I love spending summers with you, you know that. It’s only two weeks. I went until I was sixteen.” He let out a sigh and settled on the window seat the cat had been sprawled on and reached for her hand. “I don’t understand. You’ve never been so….”
“Clingy,” the cat offered with a purr, which sounded all wrong coming from him.
“Hey, I do not cling.” Star closed her eyes and settled the cat on the cushion next to Thomas. “It’s Heather Maxwell. She’s been fucking with me since I was little. She’ll be there again this year. It’s always the same people. I just don’t want to deal with her.”
Thomas frowned. Talking about sex was easier than talking about how to handle a bully, especially since, as witches, they didn’t have a bunch of sexual hang-ups to tread lightly around. But he was also aware of Heather, just as he’d been aware of her father when he was at camp.
“I know I’ve told you for years not to play their games. I’ve told you that she’s probably jealous of what you can do and how I don’t send you there every summer. But it’s important for you to spend time around other supernaturals. You know very few witches your age. Hell, you know very few people your age in general. Sometimes I regret letting you skip so many grades. At camp you’ll be around our people.”
“She’s evil, Dad. She’s a Heather. They’re all evil.”
“True. I can’t argue with that. Her father was a complete jackass to me when I was your age. Although it might’ve been worse since your grandmother was one of the high priestesses back then. He accused me of hiding under her skirts because I was afraid of him.” Thomas floated the Kleenex box across the room to Star. “If you are backed into a corner, you have my permission to use magic to protect yourself. Will that make it more acceptable?”
“It’d help,” she said before blowing her nose and wiping her eyes, which smudged the makeup she’d only started wearing a semester ago. “As long as I don’t do it first.”
“Which is acceptable to me. I love you with all my heart. You are the most important person in the world to me, but Star,” he said, “I need some me time. I haven’t had a week alone since the last time you went to camp.”
“And you’d like to get laid,” the cat pointed out.
“Once again, the cat speaks when he’s not spoken to.”
“Not my fault you’re easy to read, Thomas.” Nation looked down at his missing balls. “Unlike me, you’ve still got yours.”
“I was seven, Nate, and you were fixed long before you ran into the street. Not my fault,” Star pointed out with a giggle.
“No, it was his,” Nation said, glaring at Thomas, his golden eyes glowing unnaturally until he turned away.
“We are not having this discussion again, Nation.” It was an old one. A sentient cat was both a blessing and a curse—mostly a curse. “You came from the pound pre-fixed.”
“Dad, his name’s still Nate, short for Nathaniel,” Star reminded him. “Named after my favorite boy on Gossip Girl.”
“His name is Nation, short for Abomination, hon.” He laced their fingers together and then tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “Now, finish packing. I need to open the shop and keep an eye out for your ride. Marjorie’s already down there.”
THOMAS STOPPED in their kitchen on his way to the shop, sighing when he found the water he’d boiled in the kettle far too cold to make tea. Instead of casting a simple spell to reheat it, he hit the button once more and then puttered in the fridge to grab a cup of yogurt and a few pieces of fruit for breakfast. He also took out the lunch he’d packed for Star’s trip and put it on the tray he’d take downstairs. There was a better chance of her remembering it on her way out the door than her checking the fridge.
With the water boiling away, he placed two mugs on the tray along with two tea bags of Earl Grey, one for him and one for Marjorie. There was never any need to bring her food, because she always picked up some sweet pastry from the bakery on the corner or a breakfast burrito from a drive-thru on her way to work. But she was always thankful for the tea.
Star was still stomping around upstairs, making it far noisier in the shop than normal, or at least Thomas thought it was. It had been two years since he’d manned the counter for the summer season. He was not looking forward to spending three months telling wannabe witches and other practitioners which color candle to burn for good luck and which sacred oils to mix with what herbs to find true love or get rich, but it was the family business. It also made it easier to keep track of untrained gifted who might present a problem in the future, which was his other job for the Mage’s Council.
“Star is not pleased that she’s being forced to go to camp.” He gave a shrug and half a smile to one of his regular customers as she glanced at the crystals swaying above his head. “She’s a teenager.”
“Already?” Mrs. Wilson gave a glance that said she understood. “Is it cliché for me to say I didn’t think I’d been coming here that long?”
“Just a bit, but don’t worry about it.” He reached overhead to stop a trio of sprites from playing with a sparkling glass Pegasus with a large purple crystal hanging from its hooves. It was a pretty doodad and had absolutely no magical powers at all, much like most of the inventory on display in the shop. It was meant as an impulse buy. Something sparkly to make the buyer happy and nothing more. Over the years there was more and more glitz and less enchantment. They did more sales online than they did in the flesh these days anyway. “Have you seen Marjorie?”
“She went into the back to look for something for me. She said you had new purple candles that you hadn’t put on the floor yet.” The soccer mom played with the end of her perfect ponytail and did nothing to hide that it was meant to be flirtatious. Thomas was used to the customers flirting with him. Most of them knew it’d do them no good since he didn’t like women, but Mrs. Wilson apparently liked a challenge. One of these days I’m going to ask her why me when she knows I’m not interested.
“Don’t worry about Star. Once she tastes a little freedom in the great outdoors and makes some new friends, she’ll hate it when it’s time to come home.”
“I’m not certain that I like that,” he said while pulling the tea bag from his mug. He stirred in a trio of sugar cubes from a dragon-shaped bowl near the cash register. “I’m going to miss my little rebel if she decides to conform to the norm.”
“If you don’t want me to conform, Dad,” said Star, balancing her wheeled suitcase on the steps, a bright fuchsia backpack that clashed with the neon green streaks running through her hair slung over her shoulder, “you wouldn’t be sending me to summer camp.”
“Do you think you’re bringing enough?” he asked, his brows rising over the frame of his glasses. “A few minutes ago it was just the suitcase.”
“Seriously, Dad?” She let out a snort and offered Mrs. Wilson a nod when she reached the bottom of the steps. “Have I ever left the house without at least a backpack?”
“Your cat didn’t stow away, did he?” Which wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.
“Nate’s having second breakfast.” Star crossed the shop, holding her hand out for the bag of food Thomas had waiting. She somehow managed to get it to fit in the top of her backpack and then zipped it shut. “I told him to be good while I was gone.”
“By his standards or mine?” Thomas stepped around the counter and wrapped his arms around his daughter. “I promise to look out for him, and I’ll try to keep him out of trouble. Try not to get into any while you’re gone.” He kissed her forehead before letting her go.
“I’ll do my best, Dad. That’s all I can offer you.” There was a honk from outside, and a dark van with the camp’s logo pulled into the loading zone in front of the shop. “Don’t worry about Nate, Dad. Try to have some fun while I’m go
ne. Bye-bye, Mrs. Wilson!” She rushed for the door, too quick to change her mind, and left with a flurry of bells chiming.
Three
KJ STILL had the windows down in his old Toyota when he pulled into the parking lot of the Mission Valley Target, figuring he could do a little grocery shopping. It was already busy, and if he had to guess, whoever designed the parking lot was high on some shrooms when they’d decided which direction the traffic went. It barely made sense, and he vowed to the gods that next time he’d go to a different Target. Closer wasn’t always better.
He found a space closer to the gardening department than the front doors and rolled up the windows—the hard way. His car didn’t have electric windows. The locks popped into place when he hit the alarm button on his keys, though, which meant it wasn’t completely primitive.
His muscles were still a bit sore from the morning run as he made his way around the bright-red cement balls that kept you from driving too close. Inside, the air-conditioning sent a chill down his spine, and he tugged at the collar of his Henley to make sure it wasn’t clinging to his skin before grabbing a red plastic cart. He’d come for a birthday card, but it wouldn’t hurt to grab some stock for his pantry and maybe a gag gift for David.
He was sad it wasn’t closer to Halloween, because Target’s Halloween stuff was epic. Somehow Fourth of July–themed junk didn’t have the same appeal as a plastic rat or dragon skeleton. Might still be something fun in the toy section, but first, some groceries.
Pop-Tarts, cheap bagels, a few frozen pizzas, boxes of macaroni and cheese, and to prove that he was capable of eating healthy if he wanted, a bag of red apples and a bunch of bananas in the top part of the basket. He didn’t miss one of the other shoppers commenting that he shopped like a college kid, and he also couldn’t say she was wrong. Lastly, he snatched a jar of his favorite vice, pistachios.
“So what are you doing?” David’s voice sounded in his ear when he tapped on his Bluetooth to answer his call, shutting down his Ghostbusters theme ringtone.
“I’m getting some food for my apartment while crossing my fingers Amazon delivers the cameras and lights today. You?”
While talking, KJ sent his cart up the conveyor to the second floor and stepped onto the much less interesting escalator to meet it there. “Anything you think we might need for the park? Batteries? Bug spray?”
“Not a bad plan, although we shouldn’t need batteries with the solar-powered motion detectors. But bug spray might not be a bad idea. People walk their dogs there, so there might be fleas and dog shit.”
“I’ll hit the sporting goods section for bug spray and get Clorox Wipes for our shoes, just in case. At least I know we don’t need sunscreen.” KJ gathered his cart and glanced around to figure out where he was going. They didn’t have much of a sporting goods area at Target, but they should have OFF! somewhere in the store, and the toys were near the baseballs.
“We’re meeting at the grave markers, right?”
“That’s the plan. I think we decided on six, which’ll give us some good time before the sun goes down.”
“Then we wait two nights for the big event.” David sounded so excited. KJ wished he could promise something scary for them to film, but promises had no place in their recordings.
“Want to get sushi after? It is your birthday, after all. Unless you’ve got plans with whoever you’re dating this month.” Unlike KJ, David had a social life—enough of one that KJ had given up trying to keep track of who he was involved with or the level of involvement. The closest he got to paying attention was making sure he didn’t date any of David’s hand-me-downs, which wasn’t always easy since half of the time David dated men.
“It’s my birthday. Rather spend it with sushi to go or delivery and beer at your place than with….”
“Are you pretending not to remember their name?” KJ let out a snort as he snatched a couple of cans of OFF! from a shelf and tossed them into the cart. Then he picked up a small first-aid kit, which was something they always forgot to buy and needed. Once in a while the Eagle Scout remembered to be prepared.
“Is it working?”
“Not really. But great, you and me is the best. I think I can buy beer here. We can order the sushi and have it delivered when we get done at the park.”
“That’s what best friends are for—hassle-free birthdays. See ya later.”
With the call ended, KJ turned the cart into the toy section. Deciding on which pair of Funko Pops! to buy David took the most time. He settled on Iron Man and Captain Marvel from the Avengers movies, and there was a 90 percent chance they’d be watching one of those tonight while they ate. Maybe more than one movie since neither had a day job to go to in the morning. He could skip his run.
It took far less time to pick up a proper birthday card. He’d skipped right past the rude ones, the grown-up ones, and decided on one for a five-year-old with dragons breathing fire on a knight on it. Dragons and knights were how they’d met in college, when David joined the dorm-room D&D game KJ ran. They’d bonded over all things geek. David was the only person to ever believe his story about the dancing witches. There was no one KJ loved more.
On his way home with his shopping, KJ drove through his favorite taco shop to get some carne asada fries. They were the ultimate guilty pleasure. French fries covered in marinated beef, cheese, guacamole, and sour cream. He could hear his arteries screaming in pain as he settled the cardboard container on his coffee table. After putting away the few perishables and the beer, he settled down for his lunch with the birthday card, Tony, Carol, and the gift card from Star. He put the Pops! into a Mylar gift bag and pulled the drawstring tight on top. Then he signed the card and shoved the Equinox card inside, tossed the outer cover that Star had signed into the empty bag from the taco shop, and sealed the birthday card. On the outside he scribbled: Here’s a sample of my DNA in case you need it someday.
It wasn’t until he’d finished eating and washing the few dishes in his sink that he noticed the purple card from Star on the kitchen floor.
KJ cocked his head. He thought he’d tied the taco shop bag shut, because while he loved Mexican food, the smell of chili and cilantro could become overpowering. It was part of why he was washing the dishes. He knew he’d gotten green sauce under his nails.
The last rinsed plastic storage bowl got propped on top of the drying rack, and he bent down to pick up the card to toss it back out. But it wasn’t only the outer card. It was the $25 gift certificate encased in the envelope as if it’d never been removed.
“What the fuck?” His brows knitted as he looked over the breakfast bar to the coffee table, where the gift was wrapped with its card leaning against it. He knew he’d put it inside. He also knew he’d sealed the card.
“How the hell?” He rubbed his fingers together, noticing a hint of shimmering glitter on them that must’ve come from the Equinox logo, which was a sparkling crescent moon.
A sharp knock on his door, followed by a loud voice yelling “UPS!” kept him from reopening the birthday card. David would understand. Shit happened. He tucked the card into his back pocket and opened the door to collect four smallish cardboard boxes with big smiles on them. The driver was long gone. They never stayed.
“Okay, fine, I get the hint.” Obviously he was supposed to go shopping at Equinox, which was fine. He had to take the boxes down to his car anyway, and he had a few hours to kill before meeting David. Maybe they had something he could give David or send to his mom for her birthday in August.
Four
BY THE time Marjorie found the purple candles for Mrs. Wilson, her tea was frigid and darker than the pits of hell. It might’ve passed as pudding. Thomas ended up pouring it down the drain in the workroom where he mixed oils and incense for the customers as well as created a few genuine potions for the rare practitioner who came in.
Mrs. Wilson bought the candles and the purple unicorn that hung over the counter. Thomas carefully wrapped it in tissue that was imbued wi
th antimagic cantrips just in case it had gathered any mystical energy over the months it’d been hanging over his head.
“Do you want me to make you fresh tea, dear?” he asked Marjorie while she finished unpacking the other new candles that might as well be on display. They were very nice—soy-based waxes were all the rage—and their scents were quite pleasant even when mixed with all the other aromas of the shop.
“No, that’s okay. I’m sorry it took me so long. Somehow these ended up under two other boxes in the storage room.”
“That was probably my fault,” he told her as he reached into one of the cabinets behind the counter and pulled out a ceramic bowl of tiny trinkets, a polishing cloth, and a jar of something that Star called unicorn barf. “I put together some online orders last night, and with Star’s camp drama, I got sloppy.”
“You, sloppy? Never!” Marjorie shook her head. “I’d believe it more if you said the demon cat from hell did it.”
“I am not from hell!” Nation’s voice rang from the stairs as he came sauntering down with his tail pointing toward the heavens. “I think.”
“No, you’re from upstairs, where you are supposed to be basking in a sunbeam and not being seen by customers,” Thomas pointed out dryly, casting the undead cat a withering look.
“You don’t have any. Besides, if I don’t talk, they won’t know nothing.”
“I don’t know what’s worse, your stubbornness or abuse of the English language.” Thomas hastily moved the trinkets and jar of goop out of Nation’s way as he vaulted onto the counter. “You are not from New Jersey.”
“Does it really matter?” This time Nation added a hint of a British accent. “I learned to talk watching TV. I can do all kinds of accents.” He flopped onto his side, showing his hairless belly to Marjorie, who came over to pet him. “Things would be much easier for you, Thomas, if you let me get away with everything like Star does.”
