by Bailey Cates
“Oh, my Lord, I cannot believe that happened.” The woman from the balcony came boiling out of the front door of the apartment house. Her hair, not as dark as I’d thought, dripped with water. Tall and thin to the point of being gaunt, she tightened the belt of her bathrobe and shuffled her feet. I looked down and saw that she was wearing a pair of unlaced yellow tennis shoes.
“I was just turning one of those dang punkins around to see which side my little boy might want to paint, and it tipped right over the balustrade,” she continued in a harried, breathy voice. “Right out of my hands. I’m so, so sorry. I tried real careful to keep those dang things away from the edge there. So’s nobody’d get hurt, you know?”
Her expression pled with me. I nodded my understanding. In the minivan a child began to cry, and the woman who’d managed to not run me down said, “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. You really are okay?”
“Uh-huh. Just a little shaken up, but no harm done.”
Both women breathed sighs of relief, and the first one got into her van and drove away. I heard her soothing murmurs through the open window as the van passed.
“How many pumpkins were up there?” I asked the robed woman in front of me.
“Eight. They were for my little boy’s Scout troop. We’re having a punkin-painting party tomorrow. Or we were. I’ll have to get some more, I guess. Keep them in the car this time.” She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the damage. “Guess I have a bit of cleanup to do here, too. Who knew a few little squashes could make such a mess?” Shaking her head, she brought her gaze up to meet mine.
“How many of them fell?” I asked.
She paused and looked away. “All of them.”
The amount of orange muck sprayed for yards around us confirmed her statement. It still didn’t make sense, though. I chose my words carefully. “I can see how one might tip off the balustrade like that, but all of them?”
She licked her lips and met my eyes again. “You won’t believe me if I tell you.”
Goose bumps played along my vertebrae. “Try me.”
“The first one? The one I was holding? I swear, it felt like something grabbed it right out of my hands. And the ones after that, well, they went down like dominoes, one after another. But, honey? They weren’t even touching each other. That edge is eighteen inches wide, too. I just can’t figure it.”
We blinked at each other for a long moment.
“Were you the one who screamed?”
She nodded. “’Bout scared the life right out of me, seeing you down here. You got some quick reflexes, girl.”
I tried a smile, but the adrenaline whipping through my veins made my lips quiver, so I stopped.
She tugged on the purple belt again, peering at me. “You’re not gonna sue me, are you?”
I shook my head. The thought hadn’t even occurred to me. I was pretty sure that whatever had happened hadn’t been this woman’s fault. “Listen, I have to go now,” I said, surveying the mess in a mild state of shock.
“Okay, honey.” She patted me awkwardly on the shoulder. “Seriously, I’m real sorry. And I’m awful glad you’re okay.”
“Me, too,” I muttered.
As I ran home my dragonfly amulet bounced under my T-shirt, near my racing heart.
Chapter 9
I rounded the corner to find a baby blue 1964 Thunderbird convertible parked in the driveway behind my Volkswagen. The top was down, and Lucy and Mimsey got out as soon as they saw me approach.
“Where have you been?” Lucy demanded.
“On a run. Why?”
“You didn’t take your phone.”
“I never take my phone when I run.”
Mimsey pursed her lips. “We tried to call you several times, to see if you’d learned anything more from your…from Steve. When you didn’t answer, we became worried.”
“So we came over to make sure you were all right,” my aunt said.
“You said you’d call,” the older woman said, then paused, inhaled, and seemed to force a lightness into her words. “I mean, my stars and garters, Katie, darlin’, this is a good time to be extra careful.”
I thought of the pumpkins crashing down right where I would have been if I hadn’t been warned by the mysterious voice. A voice I’d recognized. On the way home I’d thought of nothing else—except for the near miss with the monster truck when I’d almost run the stop sign on my way home from the Honeybee.
“Let’s go inside, okay? This isn’t something we need to discuss out on the front lawn,” I said.
The two other women exchanged looks, and turned in sync toward the porch.
Once the front door was closed and Mungo had greeted both of them, I asked, “Have you eaten? Can I get you something?”
“I’ve had my supper, but I wouldn’t mind something sweet if you’ve got it,” Mimsey said.
I smiled and gestured them into the kitchen. They settled into chairs at the small table, and Lucy moved the potted basil plant to one side. I pointed to the cake on the counter and asked, “How about a piece of this?”
“Is that caramel…? Oh my, yes.” Mimsey’s eyes twinkled. “No, a larger piece, if you don’t mind. And a nice big glass of milk?”
I put an enormous slab of cake on a plate and poured the milk she requested. Mimsey was what she described as “comfortably round.” Who was I to argue with her comfort? I watched as she took the first bite and closed her eyes in apparent bliss.
“Did I get it right?” I asked.
“My heavens, yes, right down to the crispy crust on the outside of the frosting.”
“Ben’s waiting on supper for me,” Lucy said. “But he’s probably getting impatient. I didn’t tell him why we were coming over here. I was afraid he’d worry.”
That sounded ominous. “You’re obviously worried, though.” At one time I would have pooh-poohed my aunt’s concern, but I’d learned she was right more often than not. I joined them at the table.
“Those druids can be dangerous.” Mimsey dabbed at the corner of her mouth with the corner of a napkin. Half of her cake was already gone.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “And how do you know that, Ms. Carmichael?”
She hesitated, then seemed to make a decision. “We had an incident of sorts. A friend of our family, of my husband’s, really, crossed Heinrich Dawes in some kind of financial deal. I don’t know the details—Heinrich calls himself a venture capitalist, but I really have no idea what that means. Anyway, suddenly all sorts of bad things started happening to this man. Accidents, a tax audit out of the blue, traffic tickets, even an ugly skin rash. It seemed obvious foul play, of the magical variety. So I did a little divination to find out exactly what this poor man was dealing with.”
“And?” I prompted when she seemed to have trouble finding the next words. I couldn’t help thinking about what Steve had said about the Dragohs’ justifying some questionable practices to themselves. What were they capable of?
“I discovered there was a group behind the, well, the curses, really. That’s what they effectively were. Never found out how many were in the group, or much else about them, but I went to Hein—to Steve’s father—” She took a sip of milk.
“All alone,” Lucy interrupted. “It was stupidly dangerous, Mimsey. You should have told the rest of us. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you.”
Mimsey waved her hand in the air as if dispelling a foul odor. “Lucille, you’ve already forgiven me, and you know it. After all, it all ended well.”
“What did you do?” I asked.
She tossed her white pageboy. The indigo bow stuck to the side of it didn’t budge. “I talked to him, of course.”
“That’s it?”
“At the time that was enough. They’d kept their group secret. Not even their wives were aware, from what I understood. And I told Heinrich I’d keep quiet if he stopped cursing my husband’s friend. But he’ll find out I told you. I don’t know how those druids could react if they felt corn
ered or threatened.”
“So did you find out anything more about them from Steve?” Lucy asked.
Nodding slowly, I leaned back in my chair. “From Steve and from his father. Heinrich himself dropped by.”
Mimsey leaned forward. “Oh, my.”
“He actually told me the name of the group, though he said it was a men’s club.” I told them what I’d learned about the Dragoh Society. I ended by telling them who the dead man was. I felt a twinge of guilt, since Steve had let the information slip because he thought I already knew, but it didn’t seem like something I should keep to myself. I was surprised by Lucy’s reaction.
“Lawrence Eastmore?” she gasped, her eyes widening as she bit her lip. My aunt was as tenderhearted as they came, but this was something more.
“Did you know him?” I asked, shifting in my chair to lean my elbows on the table.
She took a deep breath. “Dr. Eastmore, actually. Mimsey had shared with me that there was a powerful group of druids here in Savannah, but we didn’t know he was one of them. Though it doesn’t really surprise me to learn that. He was a professor, you see, but he was also an expert in rare books. Specifically, rare occult books.” She glanced at her friend, then back at me. “Last year I arranged to borrow a copy of the Heptamaron for the spellbook club to review.”
My forehead wrinkled. “Heptamaron?”
“It’s an ancient Latin spellbook. He had an English translation. It was terribly interesting, wasn’t it, Mims? And we were all so grateful for his generosity in lending it to us.”
“So you didn’t know he was a druid, but he knew about the spellbook club.”
“Well, he knew we have a book club, and he certainly struck me as quite intelligent. I’m sure he was able to add two and two and get four.”
I pressed my lips together.
“That our spellbook club is really a coven isn’t much of a secret,” Mimsey said. “In certain circles only, of course. I doubt my husband’s golfing friends would think much of his wife’s magical affiliations.” She winked at me.
“Anyway, I decided it’s silly to think I need to help Peter Quinn identify Eastmore,” I said. “I bet he did that hours ago and has already developed a list of suspects.” I just hoped they were more likely to have committed a crime than Uncle Ben had been when Quinn had considered him a murder suspect.
Lucy and Mimsey exchanged skeptical looks.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m not so sure Detective Quinn will have made much progress,” my aunt said.
“You don’t think he’s good at his job?”
Mimsey shook her head. “That’s not it at all. But if these Dragoh druids are as powerful as we think they are, they might be able to keep him from being good at it. If you know what I mean.”
“Magically.” It wasn’t a question.
They both nodded.
Well. That added a sticky element to an already messy situation.
Mimsey said, “And now you’ve crossed Heinrich Dawes. That’s not good. I should never have told you to talk to Steve. I just thought since he lo—cares about you he wouldn’t put you in danger like that.”
I thought about the pumpkin guts splattered all over the pavement and swallowed.
My face must have reflected my thoughts, because Lucy put her hand on my arm. “Katie?”
I patted her hand. “Please don’t worry. I’m a pretty powerful witch my own self, you know.”
“You’re still so inexperienced,” she protested.
I couldn’t deny that. “I have this.” I pulled the dragonfly amulet from where it nestled inside my T-shirt. Lucy was the one who’d given it to me. “And besides, someone’s watching out for me in a big way.”
Mimsey tipped her head to one side. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve had two narrow escapes today.”
Now they both looked alarmed. I held up my hand. “I’m fine. And they were both accidents. Sort of. The first one was my fault. I got distracted thinking about…things…and almost ran a stop sign.”
Yip!
I looked down at Mungo. “That’s right. This little guy warned me in time, and I stopped before that big truck—” I saw the looks on their faces and stopped. “That was before I even talked to Heinrich Dawes, so I don’t see how it could have anything to do with the Dragohs.”
“What else happened?” Mimsey’s voice held flat accusation. Lucy blinked worried eyes at me.
“Some pumpkins fell off a balustrade at the top of an apartment building as I was running underneath.”
“You mean right before you got here?” the older woman demanded.
I nodded. “Shortly before, yes. It could have been an accident, too.”
“But you don’t think it was,” Lucy said. “I can tell.”
Shrugging, I said, “No, I don’t. From what I was told, they seemed to move of their own accord.”
Lucy’s hand flew to her chest.
“Now, stop that. I’m fine. And they were just pumpkins. Lordy, did they make a mess!” I forced a laugh.
No one joined me.
“You said someone is watching out for you,” Mimsey said.
I hesitated. Would they think I was crazy? Only one way to find out. “I heard a voice. It told me to move left. No, it demanded.”
They stared at me. Finally, Lucy turned to Mimsey and said, “Do you think she’s clairaudient?”
“Hello? I’m sitting right here. And I’ve never heard voices before.”
A few beats passed; then Lucy patted me on the shoulder. “Well, let’s just be glad you did this time, then.”
I nodded, silent. Should I tell her the rest? In for a dime and all that. “Lucy? One other thing. The voice that warned me? It sounded exactly like Nonna Sheffield.” Lucy’s mother and my grandmother.
I don’t know what reaction I’d expected, but Lucy simply inclined her chin thoughtfully and said, “It wouldn’t surprise me, Katie. Of course she would want to protect you.” She glanced at Mimsey and said, “As do we.” She stood up and strode into the living room.
Mimsey rose and followed her. Raising my eyebrows, I trailed behind.
My aunt went to the coffee table and picked up her purse. From it she extracted a bottle made of antique milk glass and handed it to me.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a house protection spell. If you were building a home we’d put it right into the foundation, but it will work fine if you put it out someplace in this main room.”
I shook it and heard a soft rattle. “Can I open it?”
“It would be better if you didn’t. I sealed it with beeswax after setting the spell.”
“What’s in it?” I asked, curious as anything. We hadn’t talked about bottle spells before.
“Salt, garlic, bay, and basil. Dill, sage, anise, and pepper.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Salt and herbs. Very hedgewitchy.”
Lucy smiled. “It’s what I do, dear.”
Standing, I went to the built-in bookshelf and placed the bottle in the center. It looked like an antique knickknack, but I could feel gentle power wafting from it.
Turning, I said, “Thanks.”
Mimsey said, “You should mark your property with the rune of protection. Algiz.”
There were so many possible ways to practice magic, and I’d barely dipped my toe into ancient runes. “Which one is that again?”
“Basically a Y, with a middle prong in the middle of the vee. Looks kind of like a pitchfork.”
“Right,” I said, remembering.
They turned and nodded to each other. “We’d better be going,” Lucy said.
“Be careful,” Mimsey said.
“I’ll be fine,” I said.
I grabbed a purple Sharpie and walked them out to the Thunderbird. Lucy backed out of the driveway, and they both waved as she accelerated around the corner. I opened my mailbox. Mostly junk mail, as usual. The setting sun had painted the sky with dramatic ribbons of o
range and fuchsia, which lingered in the gloaming. Looking up, I dropped a pizza coupon on the ground in case Margie or another neighbor was watching out the window. I bent to pick it up and quickly pushed aside the nasturtium twining up the mailbox post. With a few strokes of the Sharpie, I drew the rune mark that Mimsey had suggested on the wooden post. The nasturtiums fell into place, effectively hiding it.
I was protected on many fronts now, but there was something else I could do.
Chapter 10
I went around the carriage house checking to make sure all the locks on the windows and doors were firmly in place and secured. No harm in being practical on this plane as well as others.
As I moved from the living room into my bedroom, I realized this was the first time since I’d lived in Savannah that I’d felt any fear in my own home. The tiny clicks of Mungo’s toenails on the wooden floorboards as he followed me were a comfort, though, and I scooped him up, grateful for his company and for his canine super senses.
I showered off the run, letting the hot water wash away some of my tension as well. After rubbing my short hair partially dry with a towel, I dressed in comfy sweats and went into the kitchen. I washed up Mimsey’s plate and glass, as well as Mungo’s bowl. Still not hungry, I poured myself yet another tall glass of iced tea and grabbed my phone off the counter where it had been charging.
Mimsey and/or Lucy had left eight messages on my voice mail, each one more frantic than the previous one. I shook my head and hit DELETE until I got to the last one. It was from Declan. He’d called minutes before I’d returned from my run.
“Hey, Katie. Just checking to see how you’re holding up after our adventure this morning. Pretty crazy stuff, huh? Well, I’m sure you’re fine, probably out running or something, so, you know, hi. Um, and I really had a good time today. You know—before the dead guy and everything. So maybe you’d want to do it again? I like cooking for you. A lot. Um, yeah. So okay, let me know. Bye.”
Sweet. The guy was downright adorably sweet. He had every confidence in my ability to bounce back from finding a body under a bush. Of course, he had no knowledge of druids or magic or secret societies.
