Southern Myths

by Amy Boyles

  Axel was silent as we exited the store and walked toward his truck. He opened my door. I peeled Hugo off me and slipped inside, setting the dragon on my lap.

  I rubbed between his eyes. “It’s a good thing you don’t weigh much. Otherwise, I’d have a headache.”

  Axel slid in and cranked the engine to purring. He backed up and nosed down the road.

  “Okay. You're too quiet. What are we supposed to do now? Garrick’s going to know who wrote those letters and we won’t.”

  Axel’s lips curled into a coy smile. “Oh, but we do.”

  My heart accelerated, thundering against my chest. “We do? Who? Who wrote them?”

  “Guess.”

  “Betty Craple.”

  He barked out a laugh. “No, but almost as good.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Okay. You going to tell me this century who it is?”

  Axel tucked a long strand of dark hair behind his ear. “Idie Claire Hawker.”

  My jaw dropped. “How’d you figure that out?”

  “I peeked.”

  It was my turn to laugh. “That’s awesome. And weird. I would never expect Idie Claire to be an obsessed person.”

  Axel cocked a brow. “She’s a huge gossip.”

  “Not the same thing.” I cracked my knuckles. “Okay. So maybe she stole the paper. But the thing is, Idie’s not going to be at her salon for a couple of days. She’ll be closed tomorrow and I don’t know where she lives.”

  Axel tipped his face toward me. “If I tell you that I know exactly where to find Idie Claire on a Saturday night, will you kiss me?”

  I giggled. “Yes. A small peck on the cheek.”

  “Oh, then I don’t know where she is.”

  I fisted my hands and pressed them into my thighs. “Okay. I’ll kiss you on the mouth.”

  “Better.”

  “So where is it? Where does she hang out on Saturday nights?”

  He smiled. “At the senior center. Every Saturday Idie’s there.”

  “You’re kidding. Why?”

  Axel smiled. “Why, she goes dancing, of course.”

  I cocked a brow. “And I guess that means we’re going dancing, too?”

  “You got it. Put on your dancing shoes, because we’re about to heat up the senior center.”

  Sounded like a plan. And anything that put Axel’s arms around me was even better.

  TEN

  We returned to the house, where I unloaded Hugo, putting him in his cage. The dragon blinked at me several times.

  “Mama stay.”

  Awe. My heart pinged at the request. I never thought I’d say it, y’all, but the little ferocious carnivorous dragon was growing on me.

  Slowly.

  But surely.

  But what would happen when he grew to his full size? Which was what? About as big as Betty’s house? I couldn’t exactly keep him in a house forever. Hugo would become too large. That was simply the reality of the situation.

  I crossed to his cage and knelt. I slipped my fingers through the steel squares and said, “Mama will come home soon. Get some rest. I have the feeling Barry the Dragon Tamer is going to have a lot more work for us to do in the morning.”

  Hugo yawned and curled into a ball. By the time I’d crossed the threshold of my room, I could already hear him snoring.

  “You still owe me a kiss,” Axel said when I slid into the truck.

  I buckled my seatbelt as I laughed. “You’ll get your kiss, mister. Don’t worry about it.”

  He took my hand and brushed it against his lips. “I look forward to it when it happens.”

  I cleared my throat, hoping it would stop the heat blazing in my nether regions. Whew. Axel sure knew how to steam up a cabin.

  “So. Anyway. There’s a senior center in Magnolia Cove?”

  He dragged his gaze from me back to the road. “It’s pretty serious stuff. They have wand classes to keep them current on magical practices, Bingo night and checkers, where they use their familiars instead of actual pieces.”

  “That’s hysterical. How do you know all this?”

  “I volunteer there.”

  I did a double take. “Are you kidding?”

  “No. Seniors need to know we’re around, Pepper. They need interaction with younger folk. Besides, you never know what sort of nuggets of information you’ll learn. Like once I was stuck on a summoning spell. I wasn’t going to work a summons, but I needed information on the spell. Unlocking the inner workings was the key to determining who had murdered a young woman. I was frustrated because I couldn’t figure it out. I came to the senior center and mentioned it to one of the older residents. He happened to know the answer, which led to an arrest.”

  I sank into the seat. “Wow. That’s cool—the things I learn about you every day. That’s pretty awesome about the senior center.”

  “Don’t take the elderly for granted. Without them, we wouldn’t be alive. We need their knowledge.”

  “This conversation suddenly got deep.”

  Axel chuckled. It was a vast sound that nearly vibrated the cabin. “We’re here.”

  He stopped in front of an ordinary looking ranch style gingerbread cottage. All the structures in Magnolia Cove looked old-world European style and this one was no different. It was white with cream-colored bars crossing it. Floodlights lit the center and illuminated a sign that read MAGNOLIA COVE FIRST WITCH CENTER.

  “First witch? What’s that mean?”

  Axel killed the engine. “That’s what a lot of communities call elder witches. First witch. They like the name a lot better than retirement community or senior housing.”

  I clicked my tongue. “Can’t say I blame them.”

  Axel took my hand as we ascended the steps. “The dance party is off to the right.”

  I followed him to where music was drifting through the walls. Loud music, I realized.

  And not the soft kind.

  Hard rock blared through speakers situated inside a room filled with strobe lights, walkers with tennis balls attached on bottom, and geriatrics gyrating to Def Leppard.

  No, I’m not kidding.

  “Where’s the Buddy Holly? Elvis?” I shouted at Axel.

  He shook his head. “They’re more hip here.”

  “Don’t you mean they’re more hip replacement?”

  He laughed. “Just wait until they do Rage Against the Machine. It’s awesome.”

  What looked like an eighty-year-old woman jiggled right on by. “Come on, youngsters! Get out there on the dance floor! Don’t worry; you’re too long to break something!”

  “Myrtle, I need a dance partner,” an old man pushing a walker called out.

  I grabbed Axel’s arm. “Holy shrimp and grits. This is crazy.”

  He laughed. “Want to dance?”

  I smirked. “Maybe when something quieter comes on?”

  He nodded. “Sounds like a plan.” He gestured toward the punch table. “I’ll go get us a drink.”

  “It’s not spiked is it?”

  He chuckled. “It probably is.”

  Someone’s grandmother floated by, her hands high in the air. She wore black jeans, a slashed t-shirt and chains hanging from her belt.

  Oh geez. What had I gotten myself into? “If the punch isn’t spiked, can you spike it for me?”

  Axel winked. “You can count on me.”

  He sauntered off as my gaze floated around the room. Was he sure Idie Claire came here every Saturday? Sure it was rowdy, but it wasn’t my idea of a good time.

  Then I saw her. Idie stood on the other side of the room behind a wheelchair. A man who looked well into his eighties or even nineties sat in a three-piece suit, a blanket draped over his knees.

  Her boyfriend, maybe?

  Surely not.

  I sneaked a glance at Axel, who had been surrounded by a group of older women. Who could blame them? His dark tresses were pulled back, but his t-shirt revealed bulging arms and his thighs were nearly about to burst through his tight
jeans.

  The man was built.

  There was a reason the ladies in town nicknamed him Mr. Sexy. Because he was.

  Realizing the women weren’t going to release Axel from their conversation anytime soon, I slipped toward Idie Claire.

  A short woman with big boobs cut me off.

  “Betty,” I said, surprised. “What’re you doing here?”

  She fisted her hands on her hips. “I like heavy metal. Always have.”

  Well, that explains it.

  “Is it all heavy metal?” I screamed.

  “No. They throw a little Kanye in there sometimes, too.”

  “This is like a hidden gem,” I said sarcastically.

  Betty nodded. “Tell me about it. I brought Barry. He wanted to come.” Her eyebrows wiggled with mischief.

  “Barry?” I said.

  Betty shot me a secret smile.

  I leaned over until I was nearly nose-to-nose with her. “Are you and Barry?” I didn’t even know how to ask. Were she and Barry an item?

  Barry stood close to Axel at the punch bowls. Blue and pink haired women with dentures shoved in their mouths and thick-lensed glasses swarmed the Dragon Tamer.

  Not how I expected to be spending a Saturday night.

  “Barry and I aren’t your business,” Betty snapped. “He’s here to help you with the dragon. That’s all. I’m just an old woman. My time of love is over.”

  I frowned. “I love you.”

  “I know. But that’s not the kind of love I’m talking about. Barry and I are just friends. Now, if he was eighty with a pacemaker and a million bucks in the bank, I’d be sitting on his lap.”

  A laugh choked from my throat.

  “But as it is,” she continued, “Barry and I are friends. That’s it.”

  “Okay.” I pointed over to Idie Claire and the older man she stood behind. “I need to talk to Idie. Can you help with that?”

  “I’ll take care of the old guy for you. Don’t you worry.”

  The way she said it made a fissure of anxiety weave along my spine. “You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”

  “Heavens, no. I’ll push him wherever he needs to go.”

  I flattened a hand to my chest. “Oh, okay. That’s better.”

  We threaded through the crowd while Mötley Crüe blared through the speakers. We found Idie, who saw me and flashed a huge smile.

  “Pepper Dunn, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  I never expected to be in this nightmare. “You’re a surprise, too. Having fun?”

  Idie patted the older man’s shoulder. “I come every week to see Grandpa.”

  The old man held out a hand and we shook. “How do you do? I’m Pepper Dunn.”

  “Pleasure to meet you,” he said. He opened his mouth as if to give his name but stopped.

  Idie smiled sadly. She whispered, “He forgets it sometimes.”

  I realized she meant his name and I gave her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder.

  “Yeah, I came because Betty told me all about this place. Said it’s a ton of fun.”

  Betty bobbed her head to the music.

  Idie elbowed me. “Hey, didn’t I see you at Mysterio’s show the other night?”

  Bingo! I didn’t even have to force my way in. “Yep, I was there.”

  Idie’s eyes misted. “Wasn’t he wonderful? Connecting people with their lost loved ones is truly a talent.”

  “Some people think he’s a phony,” I yelled as the music kicked into higher gear.

  Idie shook her head. “He wasn’t fake. I went every year and always had a loved one visit me. Always. They might not’ve looked the way I remembered, but they came. In fact, my dad did hide something behind the toilet, just like Mysterio said.”

  Oh, I had to know the answer to this. “What?”

  “Under a loose tile, there was old witch money. Several hundred years ago, witches used it instead of the dollar. Eventually, they converted to American currency, but it took a while. The money’s not worth much, but it was important to him.” She fluffed her hair and said, “Didn’t someone come through for you?”

  I knuckled away a tear threatening to slide down my cheek. “My mom.”

  “She had a message, right? Something private?”

  The time was ripe. “It’s funny you should ask. Mysterio died before he could give it to me. I found a slip of paper I thought had the message on it, but it was partly destroyed. I’ve been trying to figure out if someone has the rest of the page—possibly someone who saw Mysterio right before he died.” I wiggled my brows at her. “Someone close to him. Weren’t y’all close?”

  Idie bit her lip. “We…kept in contact the months when he wasn’t here. I think that’s why so many of my kin showed up for his shows.” Her jaw flexed. “You see, Mysterio and I were linked in a strange way.”

  Okay.

  How to put this delicately?

  “Oh? It’s so funny you say that, because I came across hundreds of love letters written by you to Mysterio.”

  Her jaw dropped.

  Okay, so I wasn't subtle or delicate. I didn’t have time for that crap anyway. I needed to know what my mother wanted to tell me. Every second counted because the longer Mysterio was dead, the less likely it would be that I would discover the truth.

  At least, that’s what I figured. Besides, no one was saying the opposite, so it must be true.

  Idie grabbed my hand.

  “Will you watch her grandpa?” I said to Betty, who pulled out her corncob pipe in response. I took that as a yes.

  Idie dragged me outside. The music waned and the sound of frogs and crickets filled the honeysuckle-sweet air.

  I blinked when I noticed the fire blazing in Idie’s eyes. “What are you talking about, love letters?”

  Suddenly I wanted to disappear. But instead, I crossed my arms. “I have it on good authority that you’ve been sending Mysterio love letters for years. And not just one or two. I’m talking hundreds.”

  She covered her face and moaned.

  I dug in. “Someone was in Mysterio’s room before he died. They tore off a sheet of paper that had an address on it. That paper may hold the secret of what my mother wanted me to know. Idie, was it you? Did you take the paper?”

  She moaned again.

  “Did you discover that Mysterio had other lovers and decide to get rid of him? Is that what happened?”

  She raked her fingers through her hair and sniffled. “No. It wasn’t me. I didn’t have anything to do with Mysterio’s death, and I wasn’t in his room. I don’t know anything about the sheet of paper.”

  I folded my arms. “Unrequited love can lead to jealousy and that jealousy can often lead to murder.”

  Idie shook her head. “You don’t understand. Those letters weren’t from me.”

  I cocked a brow in disbelief. “They had your name all over them. So if they weren’t from you, who wrote them?”

  Idie pursed her lips. “They weren’t from me. They were from Mysterio’s dead wife.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  Idie smiled. “I’m a medium. Spirits sometimes speak through me.”

  ELEVEN

  There was a swing set outside the senior center. Apparently the geriatrics enjoyed settling into a kid’s swing and gliding back and forth.

  Turned out, so did I.

  “But that doesn’t make any sense,” I said to Idie Claire. “If you’re a medium, why would you go to Mysterio’s show once a year to see your kin?”

  Idie gripped the chains before pushing off. “Lots of spirits come through to me. Unfortunately, it’s folks I’m not related to. No blood kin. With so many ghosts appearing, I wondered if my relatives would visit another medium. That’s how I started attending Mysterio’s shows. At first, I’d heard the rumors that he was a phony. I didn’t know what to think, but one year I figured I’d give it a shot. See if he was made of cheese and crackers like I thought he might be, or if he full of sourdough, like others s
aid.”

  “What?”

  Idie smiled. “I make up funny phrases sometimes. Anyway, the first show I attended, my dead brother showed up. Right there in the middle of the stage. I was floored. He’d died when a spell he was working went bad and killed him. I’d always wondered what happened. I tried several times to contact him, but my calls went unanswered.”

  She gazed into the starry sky and inhaled deeply. “But there he stood beside Mysterio. From that moment I knew Mysterio was no phony. Not in the least. But that’s also when it started.”

  “What?” I said, digging my toes in the soft sand beneath me.

  “Mysterio’s dead wife visited me that very night. I was terrified. I didn’t know who this lady was, and she was flooding my brain with all sorts of images and thoughts about Mysterio. When I finally calmed her, she pushed me to grab pen and paper. That’s when I started writing the love letters—her love letters to him. That first night, I must’ve written for two hours straight. My hand had a cramp the likes of which you’d never believe.” A throaty laugh escaped Idie’s lips. “Human emotions are so complicated. They’re never cut and dry, and Heather’s weren’t either.”

  “That was his wife?”

  She nodded. “A lot of hurt happened between those two. She needed to purge it. I figured Mysterio must’ve been a lot like me—his dead relatives maybe couldn’t visit him, either. The next day I tracked Mysterio down, gave him the letter. He said he didn’t want anything to do with his dead wife.”

  “Why not?”

  “At first I didn’t understand it, either. But Heather continued to visit me. I managed to get hold of an address for Mysterio and sent the letters. It didn’t matter whether or not he wanted them. This woman had a lot to say. The least he could do was read what she had me write.”

  Idie paused. “Most of the time Heather talked about how much she loved him. But then the letters became different. Apparently, they’d fought a lot before she died. She knew he was cheating on her and boy, did she have a lot to say about him stepping out on her.”

  The wind picked up. Idie sniffed. “Do you smell that?”

  “What?” I said.

  “Gardenias.” Her gaze swept the grounds. “I don’t see any, though.”