by Nic Saint
But Gran held up a hand. “That’s quite all right, young man. They simply got what they deserved. Let this be a lesson to you all,” she continued, pointing at us. “You three. Never cast your spells in front of the cameras again. And don’t use witchcraft without thinking things through. And you, Rick, never let your ambitions to win the Pulitzer Prize cloud your judgment. All actions have consequences, so better think before you act. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” muttered Rick.
We all stared at Gran like children being thoroughly castigated, but then Aunt Bianca said, “I think they’ve learned their lesson, haven’t you, girls?”
We confirmed that we had, though I wasn’t sure if we’d ever become the kind of model witches Gran seemed to have in mind. But we promised to try.
“We will be a lot more careful from now on,” Ernestine said.
“And I won’t trust warlocks hiding under bridges,” Estrella added.
“And we will protect you,” promised Aunt Bianca.
“Yes, consider Happy Bays your home now,” Aunt Bettina chimed in.
I smiled at my cousin Fee. She looked like a nice person, I thought. Someone who could be a wonderful friend. And as she smiled back, I thought that it was actually pretty miraculous that even though Estrella, Ernestine and I had done pretty much everything wrong that we could have, the outcome was that we’d found a family we hadn’t even known existed.
“Do you think I’m a witch?” asked Felicity now.
“No, honey, you’re not,” said Gran, but when Felicity’s face fell, she added, “But you don’t have to be. You have your own talents to bring to the table, Felicity Bell, and they’re quite considerable, trust me.”
“Yes, you’re a great baker, honey,” said Aunt Bianca.
“No, I’m not,” said Fee.
“Well, you’re a great friend,” said Alice, “and that’s what counts.”
And that, I thought, no doubt she was. And as Aunt Bianca, Aunt Bettina and Gran chatted amiably, sharing memories of our mother and father, Estrella, Ernestine and I wandered into the garden. It looked pretty much like our old garden in Brooklyn, only much, much bigger, as was the house.
“Do you think we’ll ever get used to this place?” asked Estrella as she cast a dubious look at the giant manor that was now apparently our new home.
“I’m sure we will,” said Ernestine. “It’s a really fancy place. Almost like a regular castle or something.”
“I wonder how Gran could afford it,” I said.
“Well, because she’s loaded, of course,” said Estrella.
“I’m just glad we’re all fine,” I said. “I don’t care where I live, as long as it’s with you guys and Gran. Wherever you are is home.” And I meant it, too.
We looked back at Gran and our newfound family: Aunt Bettina, Aunt Bianca, Felicity and Alice, Rick and Reece, and as I watched, more people were arriving, as if Happy Bays was all coming out to meet the newcomers. And as I saw them arrive, a sudden warmth spread through my chest. I hadn’t felt like this in quite a while. Gran had found us a new community, one where we would be accepted as we were. Where we would be protected. Our new lives had begun, and I had the feeling many new adventures awaited.
I could hardly wait.
Epilogue
The day President Gnash opened the newly refurbished Falcone Tower was a great day. He’d taken the occasion to award me, Ernestine and Estrella—and Sam and Pierre, of course, with a Medal of Freedom for our help in freeing his daughter from the clutches of the Mummifier.
Susan stood next to her father, and she was the one who now draped the medals around our necks. She actually had tears in her eyes when she reached Sam and her fingers shook as she festooned him with the medal.
“Thank you so much,” she whispered, and then, in a clear breach of protocol, slung her arms around his neck and placed a well-meant kiss on his cheek. Sam, taken aback, stammered, “You’re welcome, Your Highness.”
Which was, of course, cause for a lot of amusement amongst the guests.
As it turned out, Susan had a boyfriend now, and since this one had been vetted by the Secret Service and carried the seal of approval from her parents, he posed no threat. The First Lady told my sisters and me that Susan was only allowed to meet the boy at the White House at first, though last week they’d been to the cinema together, to see some horror movie—they both were big horror movie buffs. The date had gone well, both for the couple and the six Secret Service men who’d accompanied them.
“If you want to date the First Daughter, you have to be prepared to make some sacrifices,” Catherine Gnash quipped, and Estrella agreed this was so.
Chazz Falcone, who hadn’t received a medal, was still a happy man, for he got to open the new and improved Falcone Tower lobby with the president present to officiate. The original entrance had been closed up and the new one looked even more outrageously ornate than the old one.
Some of the tenants, I’d been told, weren’t too happy about being offered a different view from their dining room window, while others were pleased that suddenly they were afforded a view they’d never paid for. All in all, things balanced themselves out in the end, and Chazz was a happy billionaire, especially since the president had expunged all charges leveled against him.
Estrella, Ernestine and I had agreed with Gran that this outing was to be our final official appearance, and that from now we’d be working in the background, away from the prying eyes of the international media. We’d also never divulge to anyone ever again that we were witches, or try to attract the attention of all the warlocks in the city. We’d gotten a lot more than we’d bargained for the last time we tried that tack, and now were more careful.
If we regretted Gran’s decision to move the Flummox family to the country, we were already starting to see the perks, too. Happy Bays was a great little town, and now we got to go to the beach as often as we liked, something Estrella was happy with, as she got to work on her tan—she still harbored a secret wish one day to become the next global singing sensation.
Of course we had to miss that wonderful pastry from Brown’s Better Bread, but now we had Bell’s Bakery, which was even better than Brown’s.
Skip Brown, after having resigned from Chazz’s election campaign—the president had made him promise to drop his presidential ambitions if he wanted to receive his pardon—had now signed on with us to help us set up our new venture. He’d be our Skip-of-all-trades. He’d even moved to Happy Bays, which he seemed to like just fine. He’d told us he’d never wanted to be a baker in the first place, so this new arrangement suited him just fine. And then there was the crush he still had on Estrella, and which she took in her stride. Like any star, she knew better than to discourage her fans from idolizing her, and secretly I think she loved the attention he lavished on her.
As the ceremony drew to a close, I asked Gran the question that had been on all of our minds: what happened to Tavish Mildew? But Gran remained mysterious, only divulging that the warlock would never trouble us again.
I briefly exchanged a few words with Johnny and Jerry, who were still on Chazz’s payroll, and happily so. Johnny was enjoying his work as dog handler, having recently acquired some additions to the brood. He was now the proud caretaker of Spot 3, Spot 4, Spot 5, and Spot 6, while Jerry was now in charge of Chazz’s diet, after the real estate tycoon’s doctor had warned him about his cholesterol levels, intimating he didn’t like them.
Not wanting to listen to an elaborate rendition of Chazz Falcone’s cholesterol-reducing diet, I excused myself and headed for the lavatory.
And it was as I entered the stall, after admiring the gold faucets and the white marble basins, of course, that I thought I heard a soft tapping sound.
It seemed to come from beneath the floor and I frowned as I tried to figure out whether it was a plumbing issue or something more serious.
Finally, I gave up, but just before I left the stall I thought I heard a faint, muffled
voice and I halted in my tracks. Like the tapping, it came from somewhere beneath the floor. And as I bent down and placed my ear against the marble floor, I heard… Tavish Mildew’s voice, calling out to me!
“Edelie, get me out of here!” he cried. “Get me out of here right now!”
And then I finally understood what had happened to the treacherous warlock. In our haste to spirit the man away, we’d used the same spell we’d used on Falcone Tower, and had inadvertently embedded him into the concrete foundation of the building! For a moment I wondered if I should release him, but then I remembered what a nasty warlock he was, and decided to let him stay put. He had, after all, tried to murder us, and had effectively murdered three other witches. So I merely stomped on the floor for good measure and hissed, “Just try to get out of there, you monster!”
But even as I left the lavatory, I heard his faint, “I’ll get you for this!”
I decided to ignore him. We’d given Falcone Tower one final attraction: a nasty warlock embedded in its foundation. Even Disneyland didn’t have that.
Returning to the party, I almost ran into Sam just as he was running out.
“Leaving already, Detective Barkley?” I asked.
He gestured at the reception area. “It’s not really my scene.”
“Mine either,” I said. “I’d rather be home with a great book,” I added, then wondered why I’d said that out loud. It made me look like such a geek.
“Actually, me too,” he said.
“You read?” I asked, surprised.
“Sure I do. When I’m not chasing killers or arresting so-called witches I like to cuddle up on the couch with a great book and forget about the world.”
“I…” I was speechless, actually. I’d envisioned Sam Barkley to be the kind of guy who knocked back a few brewskis after work, and then spent the rest of the evening playing pool with the guys or chasing women in some local cop bar. This was casting him in an entirely different light altogether.
“You know?” he asked now. “Maybe we should go out sometime. I could explain to you what I think about this whole private security thing—if you’re still interested, that is. And we could get to know each other a little better.”
I stared at him. “Go out?” I asked, as if the concept was an alien one to me. “You mean, like, on a date?”
He laughed. “It’s just drinks, Edie, not a marriage proposal.”
“Oh, of course,” I said. I’d never actually gone on a date. I’d always been the weird kid at school, and since I wasn’t exactly a beauty queen, I’d never had to chase the boys away with a stick, unlike Estrella or even Stien.
“So?” he asked, and he was looking at me expectantly now.
“I, um… I dunno,” I said, my cheeks flaming. “I guess I could fit you into my schedule.” Oh, God. I was totally ruining the moment, if this even was a moment. I had no idea. My moment-o-meter was running really low on fuel.
But Sam didn’t seem to notice, for he grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Yes,” I said, speaking around the lump that had formed in my throat.
“Just give me a call.” He gave me that irresistible grin again, twin dimples appearing in his cheeks, and held up his hand as he started to walk away.
“Wait!” I called out, a little too loudly.
He turned back.
“I, um… I don’t have your number.”
Next thing I knew, he was writing his number on the back of my hand. “There,” he said in that deep, gravelly voice of his. “Don’t wash that off.”
“I won’t,” I stammered, vowing not to wash that hand again. Ever.
We were almost face to face now, and I felt a powerful urge to move even closer, as if reeled in by Sam’s invisible tractor beam. But then he quickly kissed my cheek, lingered for a moment, and whispered, “Call me.”
When I slowly opened my eyes, he was gone.
And as I made my way back inside the reception area, I wondered if there was some kind of rule against witches dating cops. I’d have to ask Gran. But even if there was… I just might have to break that particular rule and give this thing a shot. I stared at Sam’s phone number and felt something flutter in my belly. And this time, I knew, it had nothing to do with magic. Or did it?
THE END
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Excerpt from Witchy Possessions
Prologue
Leann Peach was an early riser. Usually the elderly widow was up at five, and often even earlier, and liked to potter about the house while the neighbors were still asleep. Her big black cat Snoozles was her constant companion, and the moment Mrs. Peach stirred Snoozles was already meowing plaintively and pawing at her to get up, eager to get out of the house.
Usually Mrs. Peach merely liked to get an early start because life had so much more to offer to the early riser, but today she’d been awakened by strange noises outside. When she looked at her bedside clock it indicated it was only three, which was ridiculously early, even for her. So when finally she’d rolled from the bed, had stuck her feet in her slippers and tottered to the window, it was principally to see what all the fuss was about.
Staring across the street she saw that Safflower House, once a pile of bricks and not much more, had been restored to its full splendor overnight!
She hurried over to her nightstand to pick up her glasses and once she’d placed them firmly on her nose, hurried back to the window and stared out.
In front of Safflower House she saw four dark figures, and she thought she recognized them as the former inhabitants of the house: Cassandra Beadsmore and her three granddaughters. They seemed to be waving their hands, and she saw that faint sparks shot from their fingers, trailing all the way to the old house. And even as she watched in fascination and not a little bit of surprise mingled with fear, she saw that the chimney rose up on the roof of the house and then, as if with a final flourish, the weathervane popped out and squeaked into place, turning into the wind.
Mrs. Peach stared at the scene, her jaw dropping lower and lower, and her eyes goggling. Safflower House was one of the oldest houses on the block, or so her neighbors had told her when she moved in, and had been built in the nineteenth century. It had been completely destroyed only a few weeks ago in some freak accident that was never fully explained, and had been a bit of an eyesore to the neighborhood ever since.
It was rumored that Cassandra Beadsmore and her granddaughters, who were involved in some kind of spectacular magic trick downtown, had moved to the country, and would probably never be seen in the neighborhood again.
Well, good riddance, as far as she was concerned, for she’d never been fond of the foursome. Strange goings-on at that house had been the norm rather than the exception, and she, for one, suspected the four women of being witches, even though other neighbors had ridiculed her suspicions.
Merely harmless eccentricity, Cassandra’s friend Mrs. Reive had once remarked. But as an early riser Mrs. Peach saw things no one else saw. Like this strange scene right now. It was witchcraft. She just knew it. How else could a house be restored overnight if not by dark forces not of this world?
She hitched up her jaw, pressed her lips together in an expression of disapproval, and was just about to step outside and put a stop to this nonsense and demand an explanation, when suddenly the four women turned around, and stared at her! Their eyes were sparkling, their hands raised, and she was well aware of the menace emanating from the foursome.
She gasped in shock, quickly drew the curtains, then staggered back until she reached the bed and dropped down on it, greatly upsetting Snoozles.
Whatever was going on, she was not going to raise Cain, she decided. Better not to get on the wrong side of Cassie Beadsmore. Unless she wanted to be turned int
o a black cat herself, at least. She stared at Snoozles, who’d jumped into her lap and was purring happily, and pawing her anxiously.
“Are you really a cat, Snooz?” she asked suspiciously, “or were you a person once, like me?”
Snoozles pressed his head against her thigh and she petted him fondly.
No, she wasn’t going to call out Cassie Beadsmore and that demon brood of hers. She didn’t want trouble. And when she approached the window again, she saw that the four women were gone, and that Safflower House was ablaze with light, all the windows lit up as if preparing for a Christmas party.
She shook her head wearily and returned to her morning chores of putting the kettle on and starting the preparations for another day. Whatever was going on, it was none of her business, she decided, and that was that.
Chapter One
The last few weeks had been extremely turbulent, I thought, as I walked into the house where I was born. Gran had finally caved under the pressure of my sisters and me to restore Safflower House to its former glory. Edelie, Estrella and I had recently started our own small company, providing security solutions for anyone who was willing to pay for our services, and the house where we lived on Long Island was too remote to do a good job.
Though we had a great summer in Happy Bays, it was clear that to be successful at our new venture we needed to have a foothold in the city as well, and what better place to run our business than from Safflower House?
So after a lot of discussion and pussyfooting, Gran had finally agreed to come out with us and turn the pile of bricks and rubble into a house again.
Now we had two places: one in the city and one in The Hamptons, just like the rich and famous we were eager to count amongst our customers.
Not that we are rich, mind you. Well, of course Gran is pretty well-off. She used to own a chain of flower stores and when she sold them, cleaned up. But the three of us are poor as church mice. Estrella had a career as a voice-over artist until she got fired. Edelie, my other sister, used to work as a barista at Brigham Shatwell, until she got fired, and I worked as a legal secretary at Boodle, Jag, Lack & Noodle until… but I’m repeating myself.
