Broommates: Two Witches are Better Than One! (Kentucky Witches Book 2)

by Rebecca Patrick-Howard

  * * *

  “BRYAR, WHAT’S WRONG?” Liza, who’d been napping on the couch, sat up quickly when she saw her sister’s face. It was pale and frightened.

  “Some idiot tried to run me off the road,” Bryar said. “Again.”

  “Are you sure?” Liza looked at her sister in concern. “Was it the same guy?”

  “Yeah,” Bryar replied. Wound up with fear and adrenalin, she began pacing the living room. “Same truck, same guy. And he was definitely trying to run me off. I think he would’ve, too, if I hadn’t been so close to your driveway.”

  “Can you get a license number?”

  Bryar paused in her pacing. “I could look and see,” she said.

  “Get it and we’ll call the police,” Liza urged her.

  Exhausted, Bryar lowered herself to the floor by Liza’s head. “This trip is turning out to be a little more than I thought it would be.”

  “You’re accused of poisoning a town and now someone’s trying to kill you,” Liza mused. “Not exactly the relaxing vacation you thought it would be.”

  “I should’ve gone to Hawaii.”

  * * *

  “ARE YOU READY for tomorrow?”

  Liza yawned and stretched her legs out on the bed. It felt so good to be home, wrapped up in her own blankets. She’d been hearing a lot about superbugs lately, about how they were often picked up in hospital settings. That gave her a new fresh hell to worry about.

  “I think so,” Liza said. “Bryar’s pretty excited about it.”

  Colt laughed. “She’s still on me about singing in it. She’s pretty stubborn, isn’t she? Won’t take no for an answer.”

  She’s not the only stubborn one, Liza thought with a laugh.

  “I don’t know, Colt, maybe you should sing.”

  Colt chuckled. “I don’t think so. Nobody wants to look at my ugly mug up on a stage.”

  “I want to look at your purty face,” Liza teased him. “And hear your purty voice.”

  “You’re as bad as my sisters.”

  “Yeah, well, they’re rubbing off on me. Oh, hey,” Liza said suddenly, “I meant to tell you this earlier, but I think Bryar has a stalker.”

  “Really? How you figure?”

  “Someone’s tried to run her off the road twice and she swears she can hear someone stomping around on the porch at night. I haven’t heard anything myself, but then, I’ve been on this medicine that knocks me out.”

  “Is she okay?” Colt suddenly went into protective-big-brother mode. “You want me to come over there and stay with you two? I’ll bring my rifle. A couple of shots and whoever’s been bothering her will think twice about messing with her again.”

  “I don’t want you to kill anyone.”

  “Who said anything about killing,” Colt asked. “I’ll shoot at their feet, make ‘em do a little dance.”

  Liza laughed and snuggled deeper under the covers. “I like it when you talk redneck,” she murmured. “At any rate, we called the police and gave them the license number.”

  “How was she able to get the license if he was behind…oh, yeah, I guess you all have your ways.”

  “I just wish I–” The sudden crash downstairs had Liza nearly jumping out of her skin. It was followed by a bang, and then another crash.

  “What’s the matter?” Colt asked.

  “Something’s going on downstairs,” Liza whispered. “I heard noises.”

  “Bryar finally doing something useful, like washing the dishes or taking the trash out?”

  “At midnight? I don’t think so.” Gently sliding out of bed, Liza slipped on her house shoes and grabbed her bathrobe. “I’m gonna go down and take a look.”

  She listened again and heard a scuttle, a moan, and another crash. “Colt,” Liza said in alarm. “I think someone’s in the house!”

  Chapter Twenty

  “I’m calling the police right now,” Colt declared. “Stay on the line. I’ll use the house phone.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” Liza said. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” It was quiet again downstairs.

  “Don’t go down there just yet,” Colt warned her.

  “I’m not. I’m going to the bathroom first.”

  “Jesus, woman,” Colt groaned. “You might have an axe murderer down there and you’re taking a potty break?”

  “When you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go.”

  She could hear him on the other line, talking to dispatch, as she sat in the dark, quiet bathroom. She was getting ready to tell him to forget it, that nothing was wrong, when she heard another crash, followed by maniacal laughter.

  “Colt,” Liza hissed, “I’m going down!”

  She slipped the phone in her housecoat pocket and quietly tiptoed down the stairs, taking careful steps to avoid the creaky stairs and willing herself to move as quiet as a mouse.

  The living room was dark, so dark she could barely see her hand in front of her face. When she stepped on a sharp piece of glass at the foot of the stairs, she knew one of the crashes had come from her grandmother’s Tiffany lamp. Well, damn it, Liza thought to herself.

  Her eyes adjusted to the room and as she willed them to become even stronger, she was able to take in the whole space. Nobody was there, although the front door was standing wide open. As Liza stood in the middle of the floor, cautious of any glass shards that might be laying around, she used her mind’s eye to peek into Bryar’s room, the kitchen, the dining room, and parlor. They were all empty.

  When the laughter came again, she knew it was coming from the back of the house–from her office.

  Colt had insisted she keep a heavy baseball bat in the house, “just in case.” They’d both agreed she didn’t need a gun around; she was liable to shoot herself before she shot anyone else.

  The bat leaned against the staircase, in a corner. Liza picked it up and, raising it over her shoulder, quickly made her way down the narrow hall. Her feet didn’t make any noise at all as they hit the hardwood floors.

  The sight she stumbled upon in her office had her gasping. That audible sound was enough to have the man with the gun turning to her and firing a shot. It grazed her shoulder, tearing a hole in her house coat. Bryar Rose was rumpled on the floor, blood pouring from her nose.

  “Grim,” Liza exclaimed. “You son of a bitch.”

  Then she swung the bat as hard as she could.

  * * *

  LIZA OPENED HER EYES and looked around. She was lying in her hallway and it was blurry, unfocused. Her head was throbbing. Where was she? What had happened?

  In a flash, she remembered being in the office, of May’s husband pointing the gun at Bryar, at Bryar’s unmoving body in the floor. She remembered swinging the bat, the feel of the bat as it connected with skin, and the primal scream she’d made while swinging it.

  But that was it.

  The pain in her head was on the opposite side from where her head lay–she hadn’t hurt it in the fall. Her arm and shoulder ached and a thin line of blood dripped down her elbow. She’d been shot at, she remembered that.

  Liza flipped over and got on all fours, testing her strength. She felt weaker than she’d ever felt, but the smell of blood was strong. It revived and strengthened her.

  The scuttle was coming from the living room. She heard Bryar scream, then curse. Then that awful laughter again.

  Staying on all fours, Liza crawled down the hall, wracking her brain for what she could do. She was almost sorry she’d let Colt talk her out of a gun. Almost.

  The light was still off in the living room, but Liza’s eyes turned cat-like, a trick Nana Bud had taught her. She could see Bryar and Grim standing in the middle of the floor. Grim was still pointing the gun at her, taunting her with it. As it swayed back and forth, Liza got a whiff of hard liquor emanating from him.

  “You killed my wife,” he blubbered. “You went and killed her and she didn’t do nothing to you!”

  “It wasn’t me,” Bryar cried, “I swear. It’
s something in the water. It’s the water!”

  “Lying witch,” he laughed. “Just like a woman to lie. Can’t trust no woman and witches even less!”

  Bryar, to her credit, held her hand up in the air and motioned to a paperweight on the coffee table. Liza saw it pop up in the air then fly towards Grim’s head. Unfortunately, he saw it as well. He ducked just before impact.

  Something from behind him, Liza wanted to shout.

  But Bryar had never excelled at seeing in the dark and she wasn’t as familiar with the objects in Liza’s living room as Liza was.

  Still crawling, Liza headed towards the kitchen door. It would place her evenly behind Grim. If he didn’t shoot first, she might just have a chance.

  “Why’d you kill her?” Grim sobbed. “Why?”

  He might miss, Liza thought. If Bryar can’t see in the dark then Grim almost certainly couldn’t. And yet, like a drunk driver who kills everyone in a crash but comes out relatively unscathed, Grim seemed to have picked up an inhuman line of vision in his anger. The gun was pointed straight at Bryar’s head.

  “Now you can go to hell where you belong,” he said.

  At that moment, Liza picked up the lamp he’d knocked over and using every single bit of energy she had left she hurled it at his head. As it made impact Grim stumbled and the gun went off, leaving a smoking hole in the ceiling. He tumbled to the ground, clutching his head and howling in agony. Not quite finished, Liza looked across the room and let her eyes focus on another heavy lamp, a big brass thing that weighed nearly ten pounds. She tried to lift it, but she was too weak.

  The lamp, behind you, she sent out to Bryar.

  Bryar heard her thoughts and just as Grim was starting to rise again, sent the lamp flying towards him. Once again, he went down to the floor. This time, however, he’d been knocked unconscious.

  Liza flipped on the light switch just as a uniformed officer sprinted through the door. Colt was right behind him.

  “It’s okay,” Liza said, forcing merriment into her voice. “We took care of him.”

  Bryar walked over to her sister and fell down to the floor next to her. Together, they huddled against the wall, both of them shaking.

  “Nana Bud is going to kill us when we get to Heaven,” Bryar murmured. “You know how much she always loved those lamps…”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Liza strolled down Broadway, the afternoon sun warming her shoulders. She’d wanted to get out and look at some of the vendors’ booths, those same booths she’d worked so hard to organize, but she couldn’t get much sightseeing done for the socializing. Most everyone had something to say about Grim.

  “Oh, darlin’,” one elderly woman crooned as she took Liza by the hand, “I’ve just been worried sick about you girls and what happened that night. I think of you as my own granddaughter!”

  Liza Jane had no earthly idea who the woman was.

  Gwen, released from the hospital but still frail and weak looking, stopped Liza on her way to get a Polish sausage. “I just wanted to apologize to you for what happened,” she said softly. “I never would’ve dreamed that–“

  “Hush now,” Liza scolded her as she gave the other woman a hug. Gwen had lost so much weight from her ordeal that Liza could feel her bones through her lightweight jacket. “It’s over and done with. I am just so sorry about May.”

  Gwen dabbed at her eyes with a tissue she had balled up in her hand. “I still can’t believe she’s gone.”

  When a blur of pastel attacked her, Liza found herself engulfed in the arms of Twila. “Oh, isn’t this just marvelous!” she crooned, waving her arms around in the air. “So many people out today! And they’re spending money, too. I’ve been keeping a close watch and I’ve seen plenty of $20 bills, and even some $50s!”

  Liza tried to imagine Twila sneaking up behind some poor, unsuspecting shopper, peering over their shoulder to look at the denomination they were pulling out.

  “We do have a good turnout,” Liza agreed.

  “Ridge is just tickled pink,” Twila said. “He’s manning the information booth right now, but in a few minutes I’m going to put him in the mushroom costume and let him walk around and take pictures with the kids.”

  To Liza, and most of Kudzu Valley, the morel mushroom costume looked like a giant erection. Bryar was dying to have her picture taken with it.

  “Well, dear, I’d better scoot!” Twila exclaimed as the crowd gobbled her up.

  Liza had promised Bryar a funnel cake and drinks. She carefully balanced the paper plate on top of the Coke cans and maneuvered her way through the throngs of people to find Bryar behind the makeshift stage.

  “You ready for this?” Liza asked, taking a bite of the fried dough. Powdered sugar snowed down on her dark blue top. “Well, dang it.”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” Bryar mumbled.

  “Girls, girls!”

  When Liza looked up she was surprised to see Bridle running towards them, actually pushing people aside as she made her way to the stage. “You all have got to see this,” she wheezed, handing Bryar several sheets of paper stapled at the top.

  “Calm down,” Liza said. “You’re going to have a stroke.”

  “These are the water results,” Bryar said, her forehead creasing. “But it’s all Greek to me. Care to give me the stupid-person-who-flunked-science version?”

  Bridle’s face was flushed with excitement. “Look here,” she said, pointing at some figures at the top of the page. “This here says that the lead in our water is way over what it should be. The federal guidelines say no more than 15 parts per billion. Our water? It has more than 11,000!”

  “Well, that explains some things,” Liza murmured.

  “But that’s not all,” Bridle continued. “See all these numbers and letters?”

  The women nodded. “It means it’s the parasite cryptosporidium. Liza has a crypto infection.”

  “Good grief,” Bryar groaned.

  “You mean to tell me we’ve been drinking and bathing in parasitic water?” Liza demanded.

  Bridle nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

  “How? Why?” Liza asked.

  She saw it then, saw the trucks crunching up the gravel road to the landfill late at night. Saw the signing of a contract, saw liner being placed in a large hole, saw crates full of animal manure delicately placed on top of them. She saw it all.

  “Oh man,” Bryar said. She’d read Liza’s mind like a book. “It is the landfill, isn’t it?”

  Liza nodded.

  “But the water?”

  “They changed the water source,” Bridle said triumphantly. “Said it would be cheaper to run it from Breathitt!”

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Liza said. “Can they even do that?”

  “So who’s in charge of it? Who let this happen?”

  Liza and Bridle both exchanged nervous looks. “That would be Ridge, husband to Twila–festival chair.”

  * * *

  THE NERVOUS CONTESTANTS stood behind the stage, some clutching instruments and others tightening dance shoes. A few were going over notes on paper, probably hoping they wouldn’t forget what they were meant to say–or sing.

  Bryar and Filly ran around together, lining everyone up and putting them in the order in which they’d be performing. Filly was as nervous as the contestants themselves. She’d also dressed for the occasion in what she called her “movie star garb”–a red wiggle dress with black heels.

  Liza took her seat with the other two judges. She was nervous, too, but for a different reason than the contestants. Mrs. Winestopper, the music teacher, sat primly to her right. She’d brought a legal pad and three ink pens. Lolita sat to her left, her hair teased out several inches from her face and rhinestones on her jeans. Liza leaned in for a closer look; it looked like she’d Bedazzled them herself.

  When Colt came up behind her and kissed her on top of the head she smiled and loosened up a little. “I’m glad to see you,” she said, stroking his cheek. M
rs. Winestopper looked on with prim disapproval. “Bridle tell you what happened?”

  “Yep, and it’s made me madder than a hornet. “You coulda got killed! We all use that water. How could they have voted on that change and not told anyone? Hell, they report it in the paper every time someone farts but they can’t be bothered to tell us that they changed water sources?”

  “And, apparently, the water isn’t being treated in the right way, either. Chlorine doesn’t kill cryptosporidium,” Liza added. “They should have upgraded their treatment system, but they didn’t.”

  Colt shook his head. “Jesus H. Christ. And any one of my sisters could’ve gotten sick. I’d like to go kick some–“

  He stopped then, as both women on either side of Liza were clearly hanging onto every word they said.

  “Bryar doing anything about it?” he asked in a lower voice.

  “She’s planning on it,” Liza whispered back.

  “Well, I’m right here behind you if you need anything.” As though to prove it, he sat down in a metal fold-out chair and pulled it up close to her back; knowing he was within touching distance leveled out her mounting anxiety.

  When Bryar took the stage, the audience didn’t quite know how to react. She was met with polite applause from those who would always clap when the occasion called for it, even if they weren’t sure what they were clapping for. And she was also met with a few “booos.” She’d expected those, though, and had put on her big girl panties for the occasion.

  When Liza saw the papers clutched tightly in Bryar’s fist, she inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. The good-luck and strengthening charm she sent out to Bryar on the stage was all she had to offer. She hoped it was enough to get her sister through the next few minutes.

  “Ladies and gentleman,” Bryar began, “before we get into the talent show portion of the afternoon there’s just a few words I’d like to say first.”