Chloe appeared to be surprised by the question. “I suppose it’s possible they’re distantly related. Assuming the latter even exists.”
Margaret resumed tapping on the glass ball. The tiny creatures scurried from finger to finger like hungry koi fish.
“This is fun,” Margaret said. “What did you say they were called?”
Chloe pushed Margaret’s hand away and used the corner of her baking apron to put a shine on the glass globe.
“I won’t bore you with their scientific name,” Chloe said. “We call them glowfish, though technically they aren’t fish. Are you familiar with the Abraliopsis squid?”
Both witches shook their heads again.
Chloe explained, “It’s a non-magical squid that uses bioluminescence for camouflage. It glows to hide from predators.”
Margaret raised one hand like a child in school. “But wouldn’t making yourself glow be the sort of thing that attracts predators?”
Chloe smiled like a teacher who’d been hoping for that specific question. “It glows on the underside, so it blends with the sky above the water. Then the predators who are swimming below the octopus don’t see its shadow as it passes overhead.”
“Ooh, that’s smart,” Margaret said. “I could use a camouflage that makes me look like the inside of my house so my kids can’t see me and I can get some peace and quiet. Maybe a glamour that makes me blend with the interior of the bath tub.” She reached out to tap on the glass again. Chloe swatted her hand away.
“Don’t agitate them,” Chloe said. “When the globe lights up, you’ll know a power surge is happening. For some reason, these glowfish associate power surges with predators.”
Margaret bowed forward, nearly touching the tip of her nose to the globe. “Do they turn different colors for different types of surges?”
Zinnia elbowed Margaret, not that it would do any good. “I’m sure it’s not a mood ring,” she said.
“The glowfish turn blue for danger, and yellow for mating,” Chloe said.
Zinnia leaned in next to Margaret and used her hand to shield the glass ball from the overhead lighting. She asked, “Is it my imagination, or is it faintly glowing blue right now?”
“It’s glowing, all right,” Chloe said.
Margaret yanked her head back and glanced around nervously. “Are we in danger?”
“No more than usual,” Chloe said with a snort. “It’s been glowing like that for a month now. And my, uh, friends have detected other anomalies that they believe are connected to power surges.”
Zinnia’s thoughts rolled around to her great-niece. “About these surges, is it possible they might suppress magical powers?”
“It’s possible,” Chloe said. “Although it’s more likely to force them to manifest. There have been some extra-strange things happening lately. You did hear about Project Erasure, didn’t you?”
Zinnia held her tongue. She’d assumed Chloe Taub knew everything that went on in Wisteria, but if she didn’t know Zinnia had been present for the dismantling of the mind-erasing machine, then apparently the gorgon didn’t know everything after all.
“Yup,” Margaret said, answering for Zinnia. “I heard all about that nasty Erasure Machine business. It was a whole big thing.” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Yet another one of Zinnia’s hilarious, wacky adventures with her niece. The kind of adventure she never invites me to.”
Zinnia ignored Margaret and asked Chloe, “Was the Erasure Machine causing power surges?”
“We thought so, but even after dismantling it, we’re still getting readings. We have a few of the surge detectors stationed around the town, with various trustworthy parties.”
Margaret gasped. “Are you saying that we’re trustworthy parties?” She looked down shyly and kicked at the floor with the toe of her boot.
Zinnia asked, “What should we do with this thing? Carry it around? It’s a bit large for my purse.”
“Take it to City Hall,” Chloe said. “Park it on one of your desks and make a call if you see something.” She paused and looked steadily at Zinnia, her topaz-blue eyes bright and serious. “Call the water department.”
“I understand,” Zinnia said. “We can do that.” She turned to Margaret.
Margaret winked twice at the gorgon baker. “The water department. Right.” She winked a third time. Margaret could be subtle if she wanted to. The problem was she never wanted to.
Both witches understood whom Chloe meant. The town of Wisteria had a group of supernaturals who watched over all things magical. They worked under the cover of the water department. People in the know referred to them as the DWM, the Department of Water and Magic. Zinnia and Margaret both had the phone number to call in the event of an emergency. They had called the number only a month ago, when Margaret had mistaken a brainweevil for a crinkle-cut French fry and nearly eaten it.
Zinnia asked the gorgon, “When did the surge detector begin glowing?”
Chloe blinked at her. “About a month ago.” She was quick to add, “After my baby was born. This phenomenon is in no way connected to him. He’s just a regular baby.”
Zinnia raised an eyebrow. Just a regular baby? She doubted that very much.
Chloe said, “The power surges have nothing to do with me or my family. Nothing.” There was a faint hissing as her hair snakes briefly became visible to the witches.
“You seem to be quite certain about what the phenomenon is not, despite not knowing what it is,” Zinnia said.
Chloe crossed her arms. “It’s got nothing to do with my family now, and it didn’t have anything to do with the Wakefuls the last time these surges happened, back in 1955.”
Margaret chimed in with a curious, “This happened before?”
Chloe frowned at them both. “There was a whole mess that turned into a witch hunt. My grandfather, Angelo Wakeful, was involved. You won’t find any references to it in the local history books. It’s all been scrubbed clean.” Chloe waved a hand dismissively. “Never mind that ancient history.”
Zinnia and Margaret exchanged a look. To an actual witch, the mention of a witch hunt happening in their own town was not something to be forgotten so easily.
In unison, the two women asked, “What’s this about a witch hunt?”
Chloe sighed. “If you must know, there was a brief period in 1955 where a couple of monsters were sighted running around Wisteria. People connected it to the Wakeful family simply because my grandfather was the first to see the monsters and report them.” She shook her head. “It was so disrespectful the way everyone turned on him. The Wakefuls were one of the founding families! If it wasn’t for us, this town wouldn’t even exist.”
Margaret asked tentatively, “What did your grandfather do to get everyone so suspicious?”
“Nothing!” Chloe’s topaz-blue eyes glistened with sudden tears. “Eventually the monsters just walked into the woods and disappeared, back to wherever they’d come from. The whole thing blew over, but the Wakeful name was ruined. My family took their beautiful name off all their local businesses.” She chuckled hollowly and glanced around the bakery’s gleaming interior. “You know, I actually wanted to turn things around when Jordan and I took over this bakery. I was going to restore it to the original name, Wakeful Bakery.” Her pretty faced pinched unattractively as she spat out her words. “But there are still a few stubborn old-timers around who think Wakeful is a dirty name.”
Margaret said, “About these monsters who were loose—”
She was cut off by the sound of bells. The front door of the bakery opened to let in other customers. The popular bakery was normally a busy place, especially at lunch time. It was a wonder the three women had talked privately as long as they had.
Within minutes, the front area was filled with a dozen hungry lunch customers. Everyone was excited about the Monday cream horns.
Chloe pulled on a big smile and said in a cheerful tone, “Nice chatting with you today, ladies! Let me know if you see anything
interesting.”
She tucked the faintly glowing glass globe into a bag along with their pastries and sandwiches, and sent them on their way.
Chapter 4
On the walk back to City Hall, Margaret and Zinnia speculated about the Wakeful family’s history in Wisteria.
Margaret did an internet search and read aloud from her phone screen, “To be wakeful is to experience the metabolic state of cannibalism.”
“Cannibalism?” Zinnia quickly cast the rolling sound bubble to give the two witches their privacy. A sidewalk conversation about cannibalism was the sort of thing that aroused suspicion and could lead to another witch hunt.
“Oops,” Margaret said, peering closer at her phone. “Not cannibalism. Something called catabolism.” She touched the screen and read for a moment. “I’m no biologist, but it sounds like catabolism means breaking down molecules into smaller units. It’s what living things do when they breathe air or eat food.” She put her phone away. “I didn’t find anything else for the last name Wakeful.”
“If Chloe said the history was scrubbed clean, I believe her.”
Margaret sighed. “She’s so powerful. So pretty, and young, and powerful.”
“She is all of those things.”
“And I acted like a total dork the whole time, didn’t I?”
Zinnia hesitated before speaking her mind. “I’m afraid that smearing your nose smudges and fingerprints all over the glass globe was not one of your finest moments.”
“I got so excited. I’ve never seen glowfish before!”
“Me, neither.”
Margaret moaned. “Plus being around someone as powerful and cool as a gorgon gets me all wound up.”
“That’s why I kept elbowing you to control yourself.”
“Zinnia, I don’t know how you do it. How do you keep yourself all locked down like that? Are you still hung up on the whole Jesse thing?”
Hung up? Margaret made it sound like being kidnapped and poisoned was the typical outcome of an office romance. Zinnia didn’t like where the conversation was going. Not one bit. She steered it back on track.
“Margaret, you’re usually the conspiracy theory person. Why aren’t you suspicious of Chloe the way you are of the other DWM agents?”
“She’s not really one of them,” Margaret said. “Isn’t it obvious? She’s a sweet gal who runs a bakery. Anyone who runs a bakery is trustworthy in my book.” Margaret waved her hands as though gathering her feelings into words. “She’s like one of us, except cooler. Do you think she’d want to join the coven? We’ve had other members who weren’t witches. Like Winona Vander Zalm. Chloe could join, right?”
“Maisy wouldn’t like that.”
Margaret snorted. “Maisy’s not the boss of us. We just need to get Fatima’s vote, and then it’ll be three against one.” She clapped her hands gleefully. “Do you think Chloe would even say yes?” She switched from clapping her hands to wringing them as her mood changed rapidly. “Oh, why bother? She probably thinks we’re all lowly demon-spawn. She wouldn’t want to be associated with the likes of us.”
“Easy now, Margaret. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Just because Chloe is beautiful and powerful and makes the best pastries in town, that doesn’t mean either of us should trust her. Didn’t you notice how adamant she was about her family not being connected to these power surges? She seemed awfully sure about that, despite a lack of evidence pointing to another party. For all we know, someone in the Wakeful family might have released that brainweevil you nearly ate last month.” Zinnia shook the bag containing their lunch and the surge protector. “We might be smuggling something deadly into City Hall by taking custody of this thing we don’t know anything about. This glorified snow globe could be a Trojan horse!”
“You’re just saying that because you’re jealous.”
“Jealous? Of what?”
“You want to be the only one of us with a gorgon best friend. You want to have the other one, Charlize, come over to your house and drink tequila all the time. You two will have your fun, and you’ll never invite boring ol’ Margaret Mills.”
Zinnia knew better than to argue with Margaret. The only way to truly shut her up was to wrap her from head to toe in packing tape, like a mummy. Perhaps Chloe would have an easier time with Margaret’s friendship. At least Chloe could turn Margaret into a statue to get her to be quiet.
“You win,” Zinnia said finally. “I was probably just being jealous. Be friends with Chloe if you want. She could probably use another experienced mother as a friend.”
“She really could,” Margaret agreed.
They continued walking without talking. After a few minutes, they both abruptly stopped and peered into the bag to check on the surge detector.
It wasn’t uncommon for the two witches to have the same idea at the same time. Margaret had a knack for picking up Zinnia’s thoughts, often answering questions Zinnia hadn’t spoken out loud. Zinnia’s own psychic abilities were limited to perceiving incoming text messages and phone calls a few minutes before they happened. Sometimes she got previews of the distant future, but so far, she’d been powerless to prevent the previews from coming about. What was the point in receiving bad-news-only spoilers of her own life? Alas, there was nowhere for Zinnia to take her complaints. There was no help desk for witches. The DWM had their own network of supernaturals and resources, but they rarely allowed witches into their midst. Many of the agents were shifters, and shifters had a long history of distrusting witches. Zinnia, Margaret, and the other local practitioners of witchcraft were on their own.
Zinnia shielded the sun from her eyes and peered into the bag at the surge detector. The glowfish seemed slightly brighter than they had been in the bakery. Or was the light simply more visible now in the shadowy depths of the reusable canvas carrying bag?
“It’s the shadows of the bag,” Margaret said, answering Zinnia’s unspoken question. As usual, Margaret had done so without even realizing she was being psychic.
“The blue is eerie,” Zinnia said. “When we get back to the office, should it sit on your desk or mine?”
“It would attract less attention in your office,” Margaret said.
“That’s what I thought, but I wanted to give you the option, since it came from Chloe, and she is your new best friend, after all.”
Margaret shot Zinnia a dirty look.
“My office it is,” Zinnia said.
“I wonder if Gavin will try to get it from you. He’s got that gnome ability to sniff out items of value. We’ll find out soon enough if it’s worth something on the black market.”
Zinnia smiled. It would be fun to see if Gavin would be attracted to the device. The office had gotten more interesting as of late. Working with supernaturals was definitely more lively than working with regular, non-magical people.
They started walking again.
A few blocks later, Margaret stopped in her tracks and tugged on Zinnia’s arm. “Look,” she said, pointing to a sidewalk vendor’s table.
There, on top of a threadbare tablecloth, in between a pair of dusty candles and a seventies-era juicer, was a deck of tarot cards. Their coworker Dawna had been asking about tarot cards not one hour earlier. Talk about luck!
Both witches pulled out their wallets.
“Let me pay,” Margaret said. “Since you got lunch.”
“Plus, I’m carrying this heavy bag.”
Margaret gave her a sympathetic look. “You poor, frail little thing,” she said, as though speaking to one of her children.
Zinnia smiled. She was glad that whatever had been bothering Margaret had been forgotten for the moment and she was in a joking frame of mind.
Margaret asked the sidewalk vendor, a bored-looking, middle-aged man, “How much for the tarot deck? And what can you tell me about it?”
He shrugged. “I found all this stuff in my grandmother’s attic. Give me ten bucks, and I’ll throw in this thing.” He pushed the cards toward Margaret, along
with a piece of costume jewelry. It was a brooch in the shape of a shiny green beetle. The brooch was likely worthless, but it sparkled enticingly in the afternoon sunshine.
“Sold,” Margaret said. She paid the man and handed the cards to Zinnia. “You give these to Dawna. I don’t want any part in whatever happens next, but I do want to hear all about it.”
“Deal.” Zinnia slipped the deck of cards into the bag.
Margaret pinned the green beetle brooch to her lapel. “It looks Egyptian, don’t you think? Like a scarab.”
“It’s cute,” Zinnia said. “It brightens up your whole outfit.” She didn’t say that it wouldn’t have taken much to brighten Margaret’s outfit, which was a drab gray suit.
“You think so?” Margaret flicked at her loose gray curls self-consciously. She angled her body left and right, as though posing for fashion photos. “Does it make the flecks in my eyes sparkle?”
Zinnia raised an eyebrow. “Exactly how many compliments are you looking for today, Ms. Mills?”
“I supposed I did get one measly compliment from you, Ms. Riddle, which is more than usual, so I’ll cash in my chips and leave the table.”
The street vendor, who’d been listening to their playful insults, was chuckling. “You two are what my grandmother would have called a couple of characters. She would have loved you.” He gave them a huge smile. “I’m glad you stopped by. Cleaning up her estate hasn’t been easy, but it’s been nice to see her favorite things going to people who’ll appreciate them.”
“Thank you,” Margaret said. “And we’re both sorry for your loss.”
The man turned away quickly, wiping his eye.
Margaret and Zinnia bid him a good afternoon, and continued on their way.
Dawna Jones was delighted with the tarot deck. She clapped her hands and squealed.
“I have the best coworkers,” Dawna exclaimed. “My coworkers are the best of the best! Well, except for that nasty Jesse Berman.”
“You’re, uh, welcome.” Zinnia frowned and rubbed her thumb. Would it ever stop aching whenever Jesse’s name was invoked?
Wisteria Wrinkle Page 3
