Bedtime Fury

by Annabel Chase

  “Eden, honey, I am so glad you’re home,” my mother said, when I dragged my worn-out body home afterward. I had strength, stamina, and speed, but they didn’t prevent sore and tired muscles.

  “Since when?” I asked.

  My mother offered a dismissive swat. “Don’t be silly, sweetheart. You know we’re all pleased to have you back.”

  I cast a suspicious look in her direction. Was she mocking my kindness plan?

  “Do you want me to make dinner? Is that it?”

  “No, no. Breakfast was quite enough for one day. I imagine that was taxing for you considering that you don't normally cook for anyone.”

  “I cooked for myself for years,” I said. “How do you think I managed to eat all this time?”

  “Oh, honey. Sticking a lonely dinner for one into the microwave doesn’t count as cooking. Everybody knows that.”

  I folded my arms. “Just because I didn't become a master chef like Rafael doesn’t mean I don’t how to cook.” My cousin Rafael is the owner and head chef at Chophouse, the best restaurant in town. He elevates slicing and dicing to an art form.

  “Once the barn is fully renovated, you’ll be able to practice cooking to your heart’s content,” my mother said. She squeezed my cheek. “Then you might finally be good at it.”

  I ground my teeth in an effort not to respond.

  “I should probably mention that it's time for the annual photo,” my mother continued. “You’ll actually be able to participate this year, now that you’re back in town. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  I scrunched my nose. “Photo? What photo?” It took me a moment to process. “No, not that photo.”

  “Yes, that photo, and don't you dare try to wriggle out of it,” my mother said. “You don’t have the excuse of being thousands of miles away anymore.”

  “I can have my friend Cecily make you a new outfit,” Aunt Thora piped up from her place at the kitchen counter.

  “That's a good idea,” my mother said. She proceeded to scrutinize me. “There’s no way Eden will still fit into the last outfit she wore.”

  “Hey!” I objected. “I might still be able to fit into it.” Not that I wanted to. The Day of Darkness is basically Christmas for black magic witches and wizards. Gifts are exchanged and commemorative photos are taken and sent to family and friends. I’d been a reluctant participant as a child, but I saw no need to continue the tradition as an adult.

  “Now that you mention it, Beatrice, I’m not so sure you’ll fit into last year’s outfit,” Grandma said, shuffling into the room. She wore a black T-shirt that read—What Doesn’t Kill You Disappoints Me. A little too on the nose, that one.

  My mother turned to glare at her. “What are you suggesting?”

  Grandma continued to the table, ignoring my mother's dagger eyes. “I’m suggesting that you’ve been displaying the same shortcomings with food that you do with men—an inability to say no.”

  My mother pursed her lips, and I could tell she was debating whether to escalate this conversation or let it go. “Well, I will have you know that I’ve decided to change things up this year anyway. I was going to suggest a new look for this year's photo.”

  Grandma arched a skeptical eyebrow. “What kind of new look and why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”

  My mother sauntered over to the table and took a seat. “Well, we always go with black dresses and hats.”

  “Because it's traditional,” Grandma said. “What do you think we should wear—Kelly green? We’re not leprechauns celebrating St. Patrick's Day. Our holidays are real.”

  “I know that,” my mother said. “It's just that I saw Khrystine Hepplewhite’s photo from last year and their coven managed to look both frightening and sexy at the same time. If they can manage it, why can't we?”

  “Because you won't be swapping the women, just the clothes,” I said.

  “I took the liberty of creating a few sketches,” my mother said, ignoring me. “I’ll go get them now, shall I? If Eden is joining us this year, we need to take that into account.”

  “I’m not so sure that I should,” I said. “Technically, I’m not a witch. Besides, I’m an agent for the Federal Bureau of Magic now. I don't know that it would be appropriate to celebrate the Day of Darkness.” That would be like working as an Agent of SHIELD and celebrating Hydra Day.

  “Oh, Eden, you take everything so seriously,” my mother said. “When will you learn to lighten up?”

  “And when you do, start with those hairs under your chin,” Grandma said. “I have a bleaching potion that works wonders.”

  I absently touched the skin beneath my chin. “I don't think I'm being overly sensitive,” I said. “I have to believe that the FBM frowns upon a celebration of dark magic.”

  “It’s more than a celebration,” my mother said. “It’s one of the most special days of the year. You can feel the energy.”

  “Exactly why I prefer to avoid it.”

  “Who’s going to tell if you participate?” Grandma asked. “That midget you work with certainly isn't going to open his pie hole. He worships the ground you walk on.”

  “Neville is not a midget,” I said. “He's a wizard and he's my assistant.”

  “And you’re a fury, as well as a member of this family,” my mother said heatedly. “If we’re taking a family photo for a special day, then you’re going to be in it and that's the end of the discussion.”

  “In that case, why not include Verity and Olivia?” I asked. “They’re members of this family, too.”

  My mother gave me a cross look. “You know perfectly well that Verity is a druid and a member of this family by marriage only.”

  “Then what about Olivia?” I asked.

  My mother fell silent.

  “She tried to wrangle Olivia, but Verity put her foot down and said no,” Grandma said.

  “She said it's because Olivia isn't a witch,” my mother said, visibly annoyed, “but I know it’s because she doesn’t want Olivia to be part of something that Verity isn’t. Selfish woman.”

  “Speaking of Verity, shouldn’t she be here supervising the move?” I asked. There was no sign of boxes or suitcases.

  “They finished here about two hours ago,” my mother said. “Most of their belongings were in storage anyway.”

  “Well, I think Verity is right,” I said.

  My mother rolled her eyes. “Of course you do. Verity could say that gruyere is the best cheese and you’d agree with her.”

  “That’s because gruyere is the best cheese,” Aunt Thora chimed in.

  “Olivia hasn't developed enough abilities yet to know where she falls on the supernatural spectrum,” I said. Although there’d been some hints already, my niece was only five. It could take a few more years to know for certain, especially when dealing with a hybrid like her.

  “The photo has been the three of you for years,” I said. “There’s no reason to start including me again now.”

  My mother stomped her foot like a petulant child. “Eden Joy Fury, as your mother, I command you to participate fully in the Day of Darkness.”

  “You command me? What’s this really about?” I asked. “Why is this so important to you?”

  “I know why,” Grandma said. “Because in that same photo she saw of the Hepplewhites in their new outfits, they were also celebrating a new marriage and a third grandchild.”

  Ah. Now I understood. “This is the wicked witches version of keeping up with the Joneses,” I said. “Forget it. I'm not helping you puff up your numbers for the sake of appearances.”

  My mother crumpled. “It's bad enough that you eschew our traditions, but then you come back here unmarried and without any babies.” She threw out her arms. “I’m the laughingstock of the Mid-Atlantic Chapter of Black Magic Babes.”

  “Newsflash, Mom. It isn’t my job to make you feel good about yourself. That's your job and only your job.” Before their divorce, one of my parents’ repetitive arguments involved my fat
her’s inability to make her happy. Once he recognized his efforts were in vain, he stopped trying and that was the beginning of the end for their marriage.

  “Don't you try to use that head voodoo on me,” my mother simmered.

  “Good luck with your photo shoot,” I said. “I look forward to seeing the new outfits.” I turned to retreat the attic.

  “You think you’re such a big shot now that you’re an FBM agent,” my mother said. “Need I remind you where the real power is in this town?”

  Slowly, I turned back to look at her. “I am well aware of where the real power is, which is exactly why my job is so important.”

  “And yet you had no problem dipping into the well of dark magic when it suited you,” my mother accused. “Our magic that you so despise. I saved this town on more than one occasion using that very magic that repulses you.”

  “Yes, but not because you willingly stepped up to help out of the goodness of your heart,” I said. “Everything you do is for your own selfish purposes. Using your magic is always a last resort for me.” So much for Operation Kindness.

  My mother's cheeks reddened. “If it weren't for our magic, you wouldn't be half the fury you are now.”

  “Exactly. I’m glad you’re finally starting to get it.” I ran up the steps to the attic before anyone could stop me. My family refused to understand my position. It baffled them that I could reject the powers offered to me. I had learned over the years that it wasn’t my job to explain it to them. Not that it was easy to bite my tongue all the time, but I had to accept that they weren’t willing to accept me. For whatever reason, they remained under the misguided belief that they could nag me into submission.

  Alice Wentworth hovered at the top of the stairs. The ghost’s family was the previous owners of the farm my parents’ houses were built on. My future home in the backyard had once been the barn that housed their farm animals.

  “I’ve seen the outfits they wore last year,” the ghost said. “Consider yourself lucky to have escaped.”

  “Oh, I do. I can only imagine what my mother's idea of sexy and frightening looks like.”

  “Your brother and Verity have moved out,” Alice said. “Time for another transition.”

  “I’m sure they’re looking forward to privacy again.” There certainly wasn’t much of that in this house.

  “They have two small children,” Alice said. “I don’t think they’ll have privacy for another sixteen years.”

  I laughed and stopped abruptly at the sound of someone screaming. “What on earth…?”

  Alice floated over to the television. “Oops, sorry about that. I’ve been trying to break out of my comfort zone by trying horror movies. I figure what’s to be afraid of now that I’m a ghost, right?”

  I crossed the attic to my mattress and plopped down to take off my sweaty shoes. “You know I’m not a fan.”

  “I remember. Your family used to taunt you for it. They couldn’t imagine that someone as powerful as a fury could be afraid of a child’s rotating head that spewed pea soup.”

  “Have I mentioned they’re very supportive?” I asked wryly. And right now, my mother was very angry. Probably best to avoid her until she calmed down. “I’m going to nap. Can you let me know when Aunt Thora’s made dinner?” I’d use my invisibility locket and sneak down for food later.

  “So much for Operation Kindness,” Alice said.

  “You left out the ‘kill them’ part.” I sprawled across the mattress and fluffed the pillow. “It won’t happen overnight,” I replied. Truthfully, I knew winning them over to the good side might not happen at all, but it was worth a try—wasn’t it?

  Chapter Four

  I must’ve been more exhausted from training than I realized because I slept right through dinner and into the next morning. I woke up feeling strange. When I lifted my head off the pillow, it felt like a ten-pound weight had been attached to my head like a bow. I dragged myself into a seated position and touched my face.

  “What on earth…?”

  My skin felt rubbery and misshapen. Even worse, I could scarcely see the attic. My fingertips pressed the skin around my eyes. Everything felt puffy.

  Alice emerged from a wall. She took one look at me and recoiled. “Eden!” she yelled. “There’s a pumpkin demon in your bed!”

  “There’s a pumpkin demon?” I asked.

  Alice peered at me. “Eden?”

  I waved. “It's me. Something's going on.”

  Alice drifted forward. “What's the matter with your face?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Why did you call me a pumpkin demon?”

  “Because your head looks like a pumpkin.”

  Simple enough. “I need a mirror.” That meant a trip to the bathroom downstairs. I worried about my equilibrium now that my head weighed more than it should. “Is it actually orange?”

  She shook her head. “It's your head, only enlarged.”

  My head was too big. Great balls of a minotaur. I had a feeling I knew exactly what this was.

  “Alice, did you notice anyone come up to the attic while I was asleep?”

  Alice appeared thoughtful. “Not that I recall. There was you, of course. Oh, and your mother came up with clean laundry, but that's it.”

  “My mother came up with laundry?” I didn't wait for a response. I rooted around in search of evidence. I found it under the mattress—a Buffy the Vampire Slayer bobblehead tied to a bag of herbs with a mandrake root attached.

  “Did your mother bring you a gift as a peace offering?” Alice asked.

  “Not quite.” I snatched the curse and ran downstairs to confront my mother, careful not to tip over on the way down.

  I found her in the office on the computer.

  “You know, some parents leave money from the tooth fairy under their children’s pillows.”

  “It wasn’t under your pillow. It was under the mattress.” My mother swiveled around in the chair. She took one look at me and burst into laughter. “I’m surprised you managed to make it down from the attic without toppling over.”

  My arm jerked to my side. “Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down.”

  Grandma appeared behind me. “What's going on?”

  I turned around to face my mother's accomplice. There was no way Beatrice Fury acted alone. I didn't even manage to get a word out before my grandmother’s cackle pierced my eardrum. “How about that? A physical manifestation of your ego.”

  “This isn't funny,” I said. “I have to leave the house to go to work. How am I supposed to explain this to people?”

  “Just tell them that your job has gone to your head,” my mother said sweetly.

  “I think it's obvious,” Grandma said.

  “Fix this, Mom,” I insisted.

  “Now, sweetheart,” my mother said. “Try not to raise your blood pressure too high or you’ll end up looking like a ripe tomato.”

  “The two of you are on my list,” I said. I pushed past Grandma and fled to the bathroom for a better look.

  “Ha! The only list you have is for the grocery store,” my mother called after me.

  It wasn’t easy to see my reflection because my eyes were almost slits. I couldn’t even see the immortal flames that now graced my irises.

  “This is unbelievable,” I muttered.

  Aunt Thora appeared in the doorway. “Oh, my,” she said when she saw me. “I was hoping they wouldn't actually go through with it.”

  “You could have stopped them,” I said, but the moment the words were out of my mouth, I knew how ridiculous they sounded. Together, my mother and grandmother were an unstoppable force. Aunt Thora didn’t stand a chance.

  “I’m sorry, Eden,” she said. “Why don't I see if I can find a spell to reverse it?”

  “I would appreciate that,” I said. “I have to go to the office.”

  “If you like, I can drive you there and drop you off at the door so no one sees you.”

  “Let's see what you come up w
ith first,” I said. “If we can reverse this before I leave the house, that would be best.”

  I decided to get my shower and get dressed. It was a little tricky washing my hair because my head kept bouncing off the walls of the shower stall. I had no sense of space with my enlarged head.

  By the time I was ready to go, Aunt Thora had gone through her grimoire. I could tell by her expression that the news wasn’t good.

  “Give it to me straight,” I said. I stood across the island from her in the kitchen.”

  “How about a nice cup of tea with lemon?” Aunt Thora offered.

  “That bad, huh?” I asked. “I’m not sure I can eat or drink anything in this condition. I’m not even sure where my lips are.”

  “They do look nice,” my mother said, now on the sofa in the family room. “Very plump like Angelina Jolie. You ought to consider keeping them.”

  My fingers brushed over my puffy lips. “No thank you.”

  “It looks like this spell is locked in,” Aunt Thora said with a note of sympathy.

  My heart jolted. “What do you mean by locked in?”

  “It's the kind of curse on a timer,” Aunt Thora said. “You just have to wait for it to run its course.”

  “We’re not novices, unlike some FBM agents in town,” Grandma said. She passed straight by me to fill the kettle with water.

  I splayed my hands on the countertop. “And how long is this timer?”

  “According to the grimoire, the curse lasts for twenty-four hours from the time it began.”

  So whenever my mother brought the laundry. “I’m going to kill both of them!”

  “I’d like to see you try,” Grandma said. Her attention was back on her phone. “I caught two critters this morning and I haven’t even left the house yet. That’s a good day.”

  I lurched forward and nearly lost my balance in the process. I would have to remember to move slowly until my head was back to its normal size.