by Megan Marple
The mailman stopped outside the mailbox outside, tossing what I hoped weren’t bills into the black box before driving off to the next one. I noticed the door to Sully’s house was opened, and sure enough, Sully himself was outside watering a pitiful bunch of azalea bushes that looked as though they hadn’t flowered in years. I bit my lip to keep from grinning.
If he could try and take on that old garden, then why couldn’t I cook something simple enough? I grabbed my phone and typed in ‘chocolate chip muffins,’ in hopes that I could find an easy recipe to follow.
Forty-five minutes later and the smoke alarm was blaring in the living room, the kitchen completely under a fog of acrid-smelling smoke coming from the very burnt pan of muffins I managed to ruin. I threw open all of the windows in an effort to air the place out, coughing and waving the foul smoke away from me.
“Sorry buddy,” I yelled over the sound of the alarm as Jax howled along with it. Oisín, of course, was long gone. Probably stalking the neighborhood for rats or something.
Once I got most of the foul smell and smoke out of my house, I slumped against the oven, utterly defeated.
“Ugh. Maybe everyone’s right, Jax. Maybe I am the world’s worst cook.”
I dumped the inedible muffins into a plastic bag and double-knotted it just to be on the safe side, before tossing it outside into the big plastic trash can. Relegating myself to ordering take-out instead, I fumbled through the junk drawer in the kitchen, looking through the different paper menus.
But the pendant started glowing underneath my shirt again, a warm sensation prickling against my skin. Would it really be so bad to use magic just this once? After all, I’d be more than happy to share whatever I make with others…
I looked down at Jax. “Don’t judge me. I’ve been a good girl. I think I deserve one delicious success, don’t you?”
His ears quirked up as he tilted his head to one side, curious.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
The perfectly melted chocolate chips seemed to glisten in the sunlight as I adjusted the glass lid to the muffin tin and stepped off the curb and into the street. I couldn’t help but feel like June Cleaver delivering baked goods to the monthly PTA meeting and didn’t even try to hold back the grin that spread across my face as I walked up to Sully’s screen door and knocked.
“Just a second!”
I tried not to be too nosy-neighborish and looked around the street, pretending not to notice when Sully stood in the doorway.
“Oh, hey. I didn’t realize it was time for Fiona-Leigh to go home,” he said, smiling at me as the screen door creaked when he opened it.
“No, not at all. I uh, actually wanted to um, bring these over to you. To all of you,” I added, holding up the muffin pan. “Do you like chocolate chips, by any chance?”
“Do I like chocolate chips? I mean, who doesn’t?” The corner of his mouth upturned, revealing a cute dimple hidden under dark hair.
“Probably people who are allergic to chocolate and could die just by eating it. Oh . . . I mean, oh. Wow, sorry.” My eyes went wide. How was I already screwing this all up? “Didn’t mean to sound so morbid.”
He waved me off as he took the muffin pan from me, still with that same crooked smile. “No need to worry about being too morbid with me. That’s kind of my thing.”
I raised a brow. That was not the answer I was expecting. “Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, you know. I deal with death every day at work.”
I smacked my forehead. “Of course. Sorry, I completely forgot about that. That just totally went over my head.”
“I get it. Most people try to forget about it if I’m being honest. Like they’re scared to catch something.” He shook his head, his dark tangle of curls shifting as he did. “Anyway, thank you for the muffins. They smell great.”
I bit my lip. “I hope they taste good, too. I’m a little out of practice in the kitchen.” Why the heck did I just admit that?
“Pfft, nothing that a few cooking lessons couldn’t fix. I don’t know if Marina’s told you or not, but my parents were both chefs. They taught me and her mother everything we know.”
“How wonderful. My mother wasn’t so bad in the kitchen either, although she dealt more with plants and the like. More herbal and medicinal than food-related,” I explained. “If your parents are ever in town maybe you could let me know. I’m always willing to learn.” Smiling, I lightly smacked at a metal ladle hanging from the pot rack over the kitchen island. It clanged loudly as it fell to the counter. There was no way I wasn’t bright red now.
Sully cleared his throat, running his hand through his thick hair. “Actually uh, that’s not really possible. My parents both died a few years ago.”
Horror washed over me. “Oh my gosh, Sully, I’m so sorry. God, I’m such an idiot. I really had no idea.” Leave it to me to bring up someone’s dead parents. It was bad enough when I was on the receiving end of that one.
But of course, he shrugged, the same easy smile springing back up on his handsome face. “Nah, don’t worry about it. You didn’t know. Marina wasn’t super closer with our parents anyway, so she may not have said anything about it. My sister didn’t keep in touch with them.” Something flickered in his dark eyes before he set to work prying the glass lid off the muffin pan. “Why don’t we do a little taste-testing here and see if you’re up to snuff?”
I chuckled. “I apologize in advance for any digestive issues you may—”
“Oh wow, these are great! Mmph, and you said you were bad cook,” he mumbled through a mouthful of muffin. Wiping his face, he shook his head. “You really had me believing you were bad cook, you know.”
“Are they really? I mean . . . I didn’t think they’d be too bad or anything.” I lifted one of the muffins up to taste it, thoroughly surprised to taste the light and buttery taste just moist enough for it to be a muffin, but not too sweet to be a cupcake. “Whoa. These aren’t so bad.”
“You’re going to have to hand over the recipe on this one,” he laughed, finishing his off. “And here I was, thinking I could offer you some cooking lessons.”
I paused, a knot tightening in my chest. “I mean, I could always use the help. I really am a bad cook. I think I just got lucky with these.”
“Mom! What are you doing here?” Fiona-Leigh asked, looking a little pale. “I was getting ready to go home and find you.”
I took one look at her and my smile faded. “Is everything okay?”
“Is something wrong with Marina?” Sully asked instinctively, concern written all over his face.
But Fiona-Leigh quickly shook her head. “No, nothing like that. It’s um…” she leaned in to drop her voice, “girl problems. Can I talk to you, please?”
At the mention of girl problems, Sully cleared his throat and turned back to face the pot rack, sticking the ladle back up where it belonged.
I let her pull me out into the living room and back outside and down the front steps before I stopped her. “Hey, you don’t have to drag me around. If you need tampons, just go to the house and get some. Or change if you need to.”
“It’s not really girl problems, Mom, I just didn’t want to say anything in front of Sully,” she said, sounding impatient. “Me and Marina are kind of freaking out right now. Follow me.”
“But—”
“C’mon!”
She yanked at my arm again and I followed after her around the side of the house, past the bushes and into the back yard. We stopped right outside of the newer looking red-painted shed sitting against the back fence line.
“Okay. What’s going on?”
Marina was standing outside of the shed, her eyes wide.
“I didn’t know what to do— I think the shed’s haunted,” Fiona-Leigh said all in one breath. She looked at me expectantly.
“Uh, what now? You think the shed is haunted? Why?”
“Because things keep moving around in there but there’s no one there? Why else?” she repli
ed, tapping her foot on the ground. “They’re real, right? I thought I read somewhere in one of Erie’s books . . .”
I sighed. “Yes, honey, they’re real. But the odds of there being a ghost here in the Human Realm are practically unheard of. They’re only found in our—in the Other Realm. They don’t like interacting with this one and I really doubt there’s one taking up residence in Sully’s shed.”
“Can’t you just check?” she whined. “Plus, Marina is super freaked and even if there isn’t one, I was hoping you could you know,” she leaned in again, “do some magic to make her forget about it.”
The pendant was warm against my skin again but I ignored it. “Look, I’ll see what’s going on in there but I’m sure it’s just some kind of animal.”
Fiona-Leigh nodded and moved to the side, walking up to Marina. “Don’t worry, Mom’s got it all covered,” she said to her, patting Marina’s shoulder.
“Do you think it’s a g-ghost?” Marina asked, looking more terrified than I’d ever seen her. I was shocked considering just how fearless Marina was when it came to practically anything else. Between the two of them, Fiona-Leigh was the more level-headed one.
I smiled at her. “Not at all. Ghosts aren’t real, honey. Like I told her, it’s probably just some stray animal or something.”
I took a deep breath, felt for the pendant, and imagined a few words the quick chant in my mind just as Marina took a step backward. Her foot froze in mid-air, her face slack.
“What did you do to her?” Fiona-Leigh hissed at me, following after me as I wrenched open the heavy wooden door.
“Calm down, Fi. I just stopped her. It’ll make it easier to perform a quick memory-erasing spell on her once I show you this isn’t a ghost in here.”
The moment I pulled the door open though, a few boxes in the very back fell over and I jumped, immediately whipping out my wand even though it wasn’t of much use to me here.
“See?” she whispered right behind me, peeking over my shoulder.
“Give me light. Give me sight,” I thought inside my mind, pulling the pendant up and into my hand. The bright light pierced the darkness of the shed, casting eerie shadows across it. There was a whole assortment of boxes stacked everywhere, some big plastic containers, an old china hutch, and some lawn care tools shoved to one side. Nothing too weird or out of place.
“Hello?” I called out, just in case.
“If there’s an animal in there I don’t think it’s going to say hello back to you,” Fiona-Leigh snickered.
“If you don’t stop whispering in my ear I’m going to turn right around and let whatever it is stay and hang out,” I said from the side of my mouth.
Fiona-Leigh kept quiet.
Pushing a few of the lighter boxes out of the way, I waded through the mess, catching a mildewy scent about half-way in. Maybe old newspapers or books.
Something seemed to shuffle around in the back, and I paused, unsure. “Ahem. If you are a ghost haunting this poor man’s shed, I suggest you find a lovely abandoned shack somewhere outside of town, instead.”
Was it just my imagination, or did I hear a dry chuckle?
Judging by Fiona-Leigh’s expression, I wasn’t the only one.
I slowly edged forward, biting my tongue after stubbing my toe against something solid. This was not how I’d imagined my visit with Sully Pritchett to go.
The back of the shed appeared to be empty—at least of life. There was plenty of junk and yep, I’d spotted the source of the stench. Old magazines stuffed in a couple of plastic milk crates. I was just about to turn and tell Fiona-Leigh there was nothing in here when I most definitely heard a cough.
“Okay. Whoever you are—whatever you are—it’s time to get out. Now. I won’t ask again.”
I held up the pendant, ready to strike if necessary, but the light washed over a thick, woolen blanket I hadn’t noticed before as if it had just come into view. Curious, I nudged at the edge of the blanket with my foot, surprised to connect with not just the blanket but something else.
“Mom . . .” Fiona-Leigh warned me softly from behind.
I carefully took one corner of the blanket and holding my breath, yanked it back, letting out an almighty yell before quickly covering my mouth with my own hand.
Underneath the blanket was a person. A person I knew all too well.
I sucked in a quick breath as I took in the lanky build, the dirt smeared across high cheekbones and matted hair that was usually a dark blonde. It was his dark blue eyes that got me. I’d seen them every day for most of my life.
I struggled to call out his name. “Tristan?”
30
Looking more of a stowaway than anything, Tristan rose up slowly, his eyes steady on me. “Gwennie, please don’t do anything rash.”
My little brother apparently knew me better than I realized. All the worry and all the pain I’d been dealing with over the past few weeks in tracking him down turned into something not unlike rage. With the pendant blazing in my hand I gave him the most disgusted look I could manage. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t punch you in the face. Repeatedly.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled up in the same way they always did when he thought he could get out of trouble by being cute. “I’m your little brother and you love me?”
Holding steady, I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath. Fiona-Leigh was peeking over my shoulder at him, I could feel her jaw dropped against me. I made to move her back a few inches and looked Tristan dead in the face. Then I hauled off and smacked him across his stubborn, patchy-bearded face, hard.
“Mama!” Fiona-Leigh whispered in horror behind me.
“Holy dragon fire, sis!” he finally screeched, though cutting it short when I narrowed my eyes at him. “Was that really necessary?” Tristan kicked the filthy blanket away and stood in front of me, surprising me with his height. I wasn’t used to seeing my brother taller than me.
As he pulled his hand away from his cheek, a memory flashed across the screen of my mind. Tristan in one of his riding lessons. The horse taking off faster than lightning. The tree limb smacking Tristan clear across the face and the way he fell off the horse’s back, only to roll and land on his feet like Uncle Gardner had taught him. There’d been a cut across his cheek for weeks because he refused to let anyone heal it. That was just how my brother was.
Without realizing it, I rushed him, this time pulling him into my arms, tears free-falling of their own will. I let out a sob when it hit me that he was really there. Tristan was alive.
“Don’t you ever, ever, ever do anything like that again! I was worried sick about you!” Pulling back, I took another good look at him. “And where the hell have you been? You look like you’ve been rolling around with the pigs. And you smell worse.”
Despite the insult, Tristan simply shrugged it off. “I’m fine, really. Been keeping nearby your place in case someone tried to use you as leverage. Enoch’s clan, they’re not particularly pleased with me at the moment.”
I let go of him. “I guess not. I don’t suppose you want to tell me what in Merlin’s name you’ve been up to working with the higher-ups in the Dark Market?”
Something pulled at my arm and I spun around nearly forgetting about Fiona-Leigh. Her eyes were wide.
“So. You’re my niece, then?” Tristan climbed over a knocked-over chair until he was on the other side of Fiona-Leigh, surveying her with keen interest. “I see the resemblance, though you look like someone else more than my sister. You sure she’s yours?” he said, smirking at me.
“Tristan,” I hissed.
But Fiona-Leigh didn’t miss a beat. “And you look like a failed Prince Charming living in someone’s shed, but we can’t all be winners, I guess.”
To his credit, Tristan only grinned wider. “Ah, there’s some Gwendolyn coming through. Sorry we had to meet under such circumstances.”
She looked at his outstretched hand for a moment before cautiously giving him a firm shake
and looking back at me.
“I thought I heard you saying something about doing a spell out there,” Tristan said, pointing out the door to where Marina still stood frozen in place. “But magic doesn’t work like that here, right? How are you doing it?”
The pendant was still burning against my skin. “This is hardly the place to be having any of this conversation.” Not to mention the fact that I didn’t exactly was to bring up the pendant or my method of receiving it. “We should go back over to my house. Carefully.”
Marina’s thin, blonde form was still frozen on the spot in the middle of Sully’s backyard. So, there was that to deal with. I stood a few feet in front of her, flexing my fingers.
“You are going to unfreeze her. . . Right, Mom?”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course, Fi. I’m not going to leave her here like this. I’m just wondering how to explain the sudden appearance of your uncle.”
“I just happened to be in the neighborhood. Heard your voices from the road. Came by to see you. It’s pretty simple, Gwen. As if you’ve never had to improvise,” Tristan chuckled, shaking his head at me.
For someone who was barely in any shape to be talking about improvising, my brother was in awfully good spirits. “Just be quiet and let me concentrate, will you?”
Ignoring the stupid grin on his face, I turned away so that neither of them could really see what I was doing as I held my hand over the pendant, whispering to it to break the enchantment on Marina. With a thunk, her thick-soled boot connected with the ground, the momentum carrying her through until she nearly tripped over her own two feet, stumbling to catch herself.
“Whoa! What the heck?” she gasped, holding her arms out to balance, not unlike when she practiced her moves on her skateboard.
Fi jumped in, wrapping her hand around Marina’s upper arm before Marina even had a chance to put anything together on her own accord. “Hey now. Careful. You can skate like a pro, but you can’t even take a few steps without tripping yourself up, ha.”
