“Let’s get the boards off the windows so we can see what we’re doing,” Jim said.
Nann nudged Zinnia when they guys left. “That Branden is cute! I think he has a thing for you, Zinnia.”
“Oh, stop it. He’s way out of my league.”
“What are you talking about? You’re like, someone squished Jayne Mansfield down to five feet tall.”
“Five foot one.”
There was a creak, and the unblocked display window flooded the store with light. Dust danced in the air like glitter. The freshly swept floors glowed. Nann took a deep breath. “Oh. My. Gawdess. This place could be so spectacular.”
Plywood came off a side window. Nann had to squint. Once the store was in full sunlight, the painter guys came back to inspect. “Well, it looks like someone already primed the walls. This should go quick.” He looked up. “They took out the drop ceiling but left the frame. What do you want to do with that?”
“Leave it,” Nann said. “With all the lights and fans and wires and vents and stuff, it looks industrial. I like it.”
“Let’s crack open some paint,” Branden grinned. “You painting, too, Zinnia? I guess you’re a pro at it.”
Zinnia checked her watch yet again. “Yeah. I could. For a little while.”
Jim started on the gold, Nann the red, Branden the purple in back. Zinnia sidled nearer to him and opened up a can of green. The boom box they brought in filled the place with “KROCK, home of the Buffalo Bills and Utica Comets!”
With her pan filled with white, Nann attacked the walls that housed the office and bathrooms, and made the space a big fat L. She didn’t have a ladder, but she painted as high as she could reach. Then she started on the built-in island that would serve as a check out counter. From that vantage, she noted that she couldn’t see the very back of the store from there. Had she packed her convex mirrors?
Jim finished the gold and moved onto a blue wall. He set up his complicated ladder into a scaffold and began cutting in the ceiling. Branden moved his ladder and finished the top of Zinnia’s green. The work was going fast.
“Hey, Nann, what do you want to do about the windows?” Zinnia called her over.
The floor-to-ceiling windows on the east wall were each about three feet wide. Exposed brick framed them, jutting a few inches past the plaster. The sills were blocky, about two feet high. Wooden grills holding the panes in place were cracked and peeling.
“Might be lead paint,” Jim said.
Nann frowned. “We could taste a few chips and see.”
Jim chuckled. “Y’know, with a little ingenuity, you could make these sills into window seats.”
“We can get some stabilizer if it is lead,” Branden climbed down the ladder. “Might want to have it tested before you go to all the trouble.”
“Probably best to leave it undisturbed for now,” Jim said.
“I’ve never had a store with windows. I mean, except for a display window and a glass door.” Nann did like the window seat idea. She would need some kind of seating to fill all this empty space. “Hope it cuts down on my electric bill. I’ll just have to see where the sun comes in. Books and direct sunlight don’t mix.”
Nann turned and surveyed the work. She could already see it coming together. Children’s books in front, the section lit by the plate glass window and the first narrow one. Bright and cheery. She imagined her black bookcases against the purple wall in back.
The men and Nann jumped at Zinnia’s sudden scream of laughter. “Taste the paint chips! You’re so bad, Nann!”
It made them all laugh. “A little slow on the uptake there, Zinn,” Branden said.
“Believe it or not, she’s getting quicker.” Nann’s words made Zinnia blush. Well, kinda blush. Her skin actually looked green. It wasn’t the same green as the wall she was working on. “You okay, Zinnia?”
Zinnia squinted a question. Then she glanced at her watch. When she looked back up, her blue eyes had turned yellow-green. The pupils were slits. “Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no.”
Putting an arm in front of her face and ducking down, Zinnia hurried out of the shop. Nann followed, but only with her eyes. Her feet were frozen to the floor.
“That Zinn,” Branden smiled. “Such a kook.”
THEY FINISHED THE WALLS just as the setting sun dimmed the store. Nann needed to get some light bulbs for the hanging lamps. It was so dark in the store she nearly tripped over some paint cans. Checking her phone she saw her texts to Zinnia unanswered. Nann grabbed empty paint cans and walked them to the Dumpster. She really needed to check on that girl. In the east, she saw the fat face of the full moon gaze down on her. Nann made a little bow. “Good evening, Mistress Moon.”
Returning for another garbage run, a thought struck her. Paging through her phone apps, she found the lunar calendar. Officially, the moon was full at two-twenty-seven and thirteen seconds, PM. Wasn’t that about the time Zinnia had run off?
Clean up finished, she headed to the outside entrance to the apartments next to the tattoo shop. The door was unlocked. At the second-floor landing, she had to stop for breath. Zinnia’s door stood open a crack. This boded ill.
“You do not want to go in there.”
Nann nearly leaped out of her skin. She whirled to find the door to the third floor standing open. A woman in a red ball gown, her skin paler than bone, arched an eyebrow. A ghost. Nann clutched her chest. She’d seen ghosts before. None of them had ever talked to her.
“I think Zinnia might be sick.”
The other eyebrow arched. “She is sick, but you should not concern yourself with this.”
Weeth zees, Nann’s brain echoed the woman’s accent. French? “She’s my friend. I think I should help her.”
“You cannot help her, Druid. But of course, you will not listen to me. C’est la vie.” With that, the ghost vanished, the door closing on its own.
Were you supposed to listen to ghosts, or not? Nann couldn’t remember. Still, Zinnia might need an ambulance, or maybe just a stiff drink. Nann sure needed one. Tip-toeing (and then asking herself why) she pushed into the apartment. Heat lamps filled the rooms with a weird orange glow.
“Zinnia? Hey, Zinnia, you all right?”
Her voice was barely above a whisper. Nann swallowed, her throat arid. From a hidden pouch in the bottom of her conjure bag, she withdrew her Athame. She used the dagger for spells and ceremonies, but, hey, she was from Brooklyn. Passing the dagger at arm’s length before her vision she looked for signs of danger. But the short dagger didn’t sparkle or glimmer a warning.
“Zinnia?”
Splashing sounds came from the end of a hall. Jeeze, this place was big. She followed the noise, the warm press of steam, to a bathroom. Through the humid haze, she saw a huge corner spa tub on a pedestal. It was the biggest she’d ever seen, and only on those home renovation shows on HGTV. This was the kind of thing the hosts would gasp and pull their hair over before wailing, “This is so dated!” The tub would be replaced by either an enclosed, multi-head shower that accommodated four, or a free-standing, claw-footed thing Nann couldn’t imagine trying to clean behind. Water was topped by a mound of bubbles. She didn’t really want to catch her new friend naked. At the same time, there was definitely something wrong with Zinnia.
A slosh stilled her willy-nilly thoughts. Something green-black and pointy emerged from the bubbles. It flicked on one of the taps. After a few heartbeats, it flapped the tap back off and submerged. Nann took an involuntary step back. Condensation made the tiles slippery. She half-fell, catching herself on the door frame.
Then, on the other side of the tub, bubbles rose. Nann saw a toothy snout, a head covered with bubbles like a wig from the French Revolution. A yellow eye with a split pupil took her in. Alligator? Crocodile? Nann found herself unable to breathe. Then, with a grunt, the reptilian head slipped out of sight beneath the foam.
Her feet pounding back down the stairs nearly drown out the French accented voice that followed her.
They never listen.
SHE LEANED AGAINST Cricket, waiting to catch her breath. Okay, a ghost, and an alligator in the tub. Nann had seen weirder stuff on the streets of Brooklyn. Maybe not quite as spooky as that. Still, she was a practicing Druid. “Get a hold of yourself, Nann.”
Tom’s tattoo shop was open, and he waved at her. Even with the door closed, she could hear the pound of rock music. She waved back. How normal.
“Okay, Cricket, I guess we’re heading home.”
The car’s blinkers flashed in agreement. Yet as they headed toward Port Argent, it seemed Cricket was more in control of the drive. She pulled herself into a gas station ten minutes later. “Oh, right. Cars need gas.”
Down the road, on the other side, was a Tops market, and Cricket swerved into the parking lot.
“Oh, right. I need food.”
It was probably good that Cricket was doing most of the driving. Nann had a lot on her mind. Foremost, of course, was getting the store set up. But the dead boy they’d found, and the one still missing, were always on the back of her mind. Roy Billingsly. Sam Barber. Of the friends she had made, two were already high up on the suspect list. Zinnia turned into an alligator on the full moon. (Were-gator? Were-croc? What did you even call such a thing?) Tink had accidentally revealed herself as an elf. As anyone familiar with fairy tales knew, the Fae were big on making off with children. Could the ghost be involved? Maybe. Nann didn’t know enough about her. She did know that many of the men she’d met were members of a secret society; a society that hunted vampires.
After winding up the bluff road, the size of the looming house surprised her. Her home. Looming. Nann was a city girl, used to street lights and traffic. As she shut off Cricket, the silent darkness felt smothering.
“Let me see if I can find the garage door opener.” Her voice sounded loud in her ears. With the flashlight app on her phone, she made her way to the kitchen door. Juggling grocery bags and keys, she got inside. Bugs swarmed as she turned on the outside light. When she flipped on the kitchen light, she found she was not alone.
Chapter 4
Red eyes glowed at her from a foot off the floor. The pig, the one she’d seen running around with a toilet seat in its mouth, had returned. It turned in a circle, oinking and grunting. Nann had no idea what to do. Did pigs get rabies?
It made an impatient noise and ran into the living room. Nann followed, her phone light still on. The tiny pig jumped up and down in front of an antique radio about half as tall as a refrigerator. It took a few jumps, but the pig managed to switch it on. The oblong face of the radio lit up, and after a moment, a staticky voice spoke.
“Submit, mortal human! Empty your garbage cans that I may root!”
Her eyes shifted from the red-eyed pig to the radio and back. “Are you talking to me through the radio?”
“I am the feral master of the forest! Submit! I command you, Druid!”
It had already been a weird evening. “Why, this is not even a little bit unusual.” Saying it aloud didn’t make it any more true.
“Obey me, Witch!”
The pig panted a little, out of breath from its exertions. Despite the rather demonic eyes, Nann couldn’t help but smile. “You. Are. Adorable!”
“I’m not!”
“You are so cute! Do you want a treat?”
The pig did an excited little dance. Then it got ahold of itself and glared again.
“What do pigs eat, anyway? Oh, I know. Do you want a Little Debbie cake?”
For a moment, the scarlet glow faded, the eyes going crescent shaped with joy. “Oh boy!” Then the pig seemed to remember it was evil. “I am the spawn of the Horned One! Submit!”
“If you’re gonna be all pushy, you don’t get a treat.”
With a frustrated grunt, the pig ran past her, banging out the screen door.
“I’ll return for your soul, Druid!” The voice on the radio faded away. Nann switched it off. Returning to the kitchen, she opened a box of Zebra Cake Rolls and ate one. A quick search while eating revealed the garage door remote in the top kitchen drawer. Following the pig outside, she pushed the button. The door lifted. Scanning the dark revealed no sign of the miniscule invader.
The garage was pretty dirty, and there were old black bags of garbage, but the car fit just fine. “We’ll get it cleaned up later. I think you’ll be just fine in here.” Cricket flashed her brake lights in agreement.
The garage was attached, and she found herself walking back into the kitchen on the other side. She put the groceries away, popping a frozen pot pie in the microwave. Maybe she’d try cooking something tomorrow. She’d already had enough of this day.
Still, the day wasn’t over. When she sat down in front of the TV with her too-hot pie, the news was on. The news wasn’t good. Another boy was missing; this one from Calamity Corners. The reporter stood across the street from her new store. “Just this afternoon, police and volunteers found the body of Roy Billingsly, a ten-year-old boy missing from Oswego for nearly two months. Now, another boy has left his home in the middle of the night, Jacob Learner from right here in Amity Corners. You can see the search party behind me right now.”
The camera panned, catching her new store, and then a group of men with flashlights heading through the mill’s truck parking lot.
“Learner is the third boy to go missing in less than three months. The search this afternoon was looking for Sam Barber, who disappeared from Hannibal nearly two months ago.”
The news cut back to the anchors. “Thanks Bob. We’ll be updating this story as it unfolds.”
“In lighter news, the Oswego Independence Day Parade is still accepting applicants for this year’s event.”
Nann remoted the TV off.
“What a day.”
Her pot pie trash went in the can under the kitchen sink. She took a potato from the grocery bag still sitting on the table. From her purse, she took the Athame and sat down. For a moment, she held potato and knife, focusing. A few moment’s meditation brought her in touch with her inner power. She transferred a little to each the knife and the spud.
On one side of the potato, she carved a rune, Ψ, Elhaz, which looked a little like the Greek letter Psi, a symbol of protection. On the other, she carved $, a good ol’ dollar sign. This was a symbol of prosperity. She walked outside to the empty garden, scanning the woods for the pig. Not seeing him, she dug up the earth with the Athame. Finding the moon nearly set, she held up her offering. A moment later, she planted the potato. “I hope you’re a fall potato, not a spring potato, or this could go all kinds of wrong.”
She smoothed the soil over her planting, washed her hands and her knife, and went to bed.
WHAT A CRAZY WORLD, she told herself the next morning. Aunt Nancy’s vintage Mr. Coffee still worked. She held a warm cup up in both hands, charged it with her inner energy. It was gonna be another long one. Checking the trucking app on her phone, she saw that the tandem load was being driven down to Baltimore. Hers was the second container on the truck. Her books would be here tomorrow.
“Better get cracking.” She drank her coffee and headed out. Cricket nearly collided with Barb Buford’s SUV coming up the driveway. The woman hurried out of her vehicle, papers fluttering in her hand.
“Good news, Nancy. There’s been a significant offer on your place.”
“It’s Nann. Nann, with two n’s at the end. And I don’t want to sell this house. I’ve only been here one night.”
Barb nodded. “I understand this home has sentimental value. I do. But you need to face some facts, Nanc—Nann. All of the houses up on the bluff are rentals. Come winter, you’re going to be all alone up here. It will be incredibly lonely. Unless—you aren’t planning to have any gatherings like your Aunt Nancy did?”
“I’ve been here one night. I haven’t even decided what room to sleep in yet.”
Barb went on, not hearing Nann. “There are so many drawbacks, you don’t know. If your car goes in a ditch, there won’t be
anyone around to help you. And with the snow we get here, it’s a very real scenario.”
Nann shrugged. “I got a cell phone. My car’s got four-wheel-drive. I’m sure it will be fine.”
“The power goes out a lot, too. You might be stuck for days without electricity. When the lake freezes in winter, your gas bill will shoot through the roof. Plus, it’s an old house. It’s going to need maintenance. If you’re trying to live on a budget, this isn’t the house for you. This offer is nearly seven figures. You could buy almost any house around.” Barb’s face turned a little pink and her breath came hard from her impassioned speech.
“I’m not selling my aunt’s house. It’s way too dark and quiet for me, but I’m sure you get used to that. But I can still feel her here, her and my uncle. This is a family place, and believe it or not, it feels like home.”
Barb headed for her car, but not before Nann caught her look of desperation and disappointment. She waved her documents. “My office is always open.” The real estate agent sat in her car for a long moment before spinning the SUV around and driving off. Nann hopped in Cricket.
She noticed the little pig peeking out from the nearby trees. Nann rolled down her widow. “Stay dry, piggy. It smells like rain.”
With a jump of surprise, the potbelly pig dove back into the shelter of the woods.
“Crazy, crazy world.” She got Cricket turned around and headed to work.
NANN PUSHED A SHOPPING cart filled with lightbulbs up to the checkout, then dragged a multipurpose ladder alongside. Gert didn’t look up from her newspaper. The pashmina was replaced by strands of chunky beads that matched the pastel rainbow of her hair. Each of her fingernails was painted a different, bright color.
“Still painting?”
“Nope. Got that done.”
“Bet you’ll need a carpenter soon. I know fifty guys out of work.” The cashier scanned the lightbulbs.
Calm Before the Witch Storm Page 3
