Would-Be Witch

by Kimberly Frost

  Chapter 24

  I woke later to the sound of shouting. Sunlight streamed in from all the glass windows, and I rolled onto my side and saw Zach slam Bryn into the wall. Bryn ducked as Zach’s fist smashed into the plaster.

  “You son of a bitch!” Zach stalked over to the bench and grabbed a crystal tumbler. “You had to get her drunk?” He whipped the glass across the room, and it shattered against the wall.

  I wanted to say something, but didn’t know what. It didn’t matter since Zach didn’t look like he wanted to talk anyway.

  “You want to stay here?” he demanded, looking down at me.

  “Yes, she wants to stay,” Bryn said. He was dressed in jeans and a white shirt. He looked ready for the day.

  I felt like a Ford F-250 had run me over. I put an arm over my eyes.

  “I don’t feel good,” I mumbled.

  “I hope the fuck not,” Zach said, scooping me up. The sheet slid off my bare legs. The world lurched, and I squeezed my eyes shut as I pushed my dress down to cover as much as possible.

  “Get out of my way,” Zach ground out. I opened my eyes to see Bryn standing in the doorway.

  “Tamara, do you want to stay or go?”

  I felt like a prizefighter the day after the big fight. I rested my head against Zach’s shoulder.

  “Go.”

  “There are only ten left. The others were cast out. We did that,” Bryn said.

  Ten what? Werewolves? How? Had he used our combined power to cast a killing spell? That seemed, well, kind of wrong. Sure I’d been all fired up to shoot them, but killing them from a distance seemed unfair, like we should have gotten a penalty for unsportsmanlike conduct.

  The room was slightly blurry, but I focused on Bryn’s face. “I’m tired.”

  He reached a hand out toward me, but stopped short.

  “You touch her, and I’ll set her down long enough to knock your head off your shoulders.”

  Bryn smiled. “I’ll let him take you because he doesn’t have much time left with you. When you feel better, pack a bag, because the next time you find yourself in my house, you’ll be staying longer than the night.” Bryn stepped aside.

  I felt myself shifting. Zach was going to put me down to fight with him.

  I clutched Zach’s shoulder. “No, take me home.”

  I closed my eyes and didn’t open them again until I told Zach to pull the car over so I could be sick. When I was finished, he put me back in, silently. He stalked back around to the driver’s side, and I could feel the accusation in his stiff movements.

  I’d betrayed him. I knew he wanted to shout and smash things, but I was in no shape for it. The silence was so thick it was hard to breathe.

  And worst of all, it was already afternoon on Thursday, October twenty-third. I had less than twenty-four hours left, and I didn’t have the energy to lift my head, let alone to cast a spell. Not that I could be trusted to spell-cast. Astral projection was supposed to have taken me to the locket, not made me channel Edie, causing my body to house my soul and part of hers. I couldn’t deny that it had felt great to be as bold and fearless as Edie, her twenties slang dripping from my tongue. I’d been drunk with power and confidence, overconfidence actually.

  Bryn was right. I should never have cast spells without training. Now I’d had my fun, and I would pay for it with Edie’s soul and a guilty conscience that wouldn’t give me peace for the rest of my life.

  Zach’s little brick house feels a lot like home sometimes, but not when we’re fighting. I dropped down on the lumpy blue couch and tipped my head back, resting my neck on the cushion.

  Zach went into the kitchen, and five minutes later, bacon and eggs were sizzling in the frying pan. He came out and handed me a glass of sugar water. We’d figured out in high school that eating a packet of sugar is a good way to recover from a hangover for some reason. I swallowed the sweet liquid, not sure at all that it would work for a magical hangover, but, twenty minutes later, I felt better and sat down at the old Formica-topped kitchen table.

  Zach set down two plates of food, one in front of me and one for himself.

  “You’re bleeding again,” I said, seeing a small red spot that had soaked through the shirt’s maroon bloodstain from the night before.

  He didn’t say anything, just got to shoveling food into his mouth.

  “Zach, I’m sorry.” I paused. “I feel better, so if you want to yell at me, go ahead.”

  He ignored me, going back to the skillet for more bacon.

  “I didn’t do it to hurt you.”

  He looked over and fixed me with a hard look. “That just makes it worse, doesn’t it?”

  I opened my mouth, but couldn’t think of what to say. He’d have rather I’d done it to make him jealous or something than because I’d wanted to do it. “I just meant—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Me either. I hated seeing him in pain.

  “I think you need to go to a hospital in Dallas. If that wound keeps bleeding, you need to be in a place where they can give you another blood transfusion.”

  “There’s trouble in Duvall. I ain’t goin’ anywhere until that’s settled.”

  “The sheriff and the others can handle it. You said they have backup.”

  “You need to wash all that shit off your face. If you’re done eating, get to taking a shower. I need one too before I go to work.”

  “Zach, you could bleed to death.”

  “Then bury me next to Momma at Lakeside,” he said flippantly. He finished his food and tossed his dish in the sink.

  “There’s no talking to you!”

  He walked over and picked up the newspaper from the counter before proceeding to the living room with it. I followed him.

  “Why did you even bring me here if you don’t want to talk about things?” This was so typical of Zach. No problem at home was too big to be ignored. When he didn’t answer, I walked over to where he’d sat down and snatched the paper from his grasp, crumpling it.

  “Girl, I’m at my limit today. Don’t push me.”

  “I can take a shower at my own house. Just drive me home.”

  “I’m not dropping you off looking like some tramp who’s been turning tricks for tequila shots. Now, go on in and take a shower.”

  “What do you care what my neighbors think? I’m not your responsibility. We’re divorced!”

  “I said for better or worse, and I meant it. Gettin’ divorced was your idea.”

  “When we were married you barely knew I was there!”

  “First off, that’s a hell of an exaggeration. Second, today’s maybe not the best day for you to get on a high horse about anything.” His tone was hard and flat, and it cut me deeper than a steak knife could have.

  I clenched my fists. “We’re not married, you and me. I can do whatever I want.”

  “You best hope I do bleed to death then, ’cause otherwise you’re going to have a big problem with me from here on out.”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “I married you, darlin’. You’ll be my business ’til we’re both dead.”

  “There’s no talking to you.”

  “Then stop tryin’ to,” he said, yanking the paper from me and nodding toward the hallway where the bathroom was.

  I marched down the hall and slammed the door closed. I nearly shouted in surprise at the sight of my black-smudged reflection in the vanity mirror. The aftermath of three coats of mascara is a good reason to stick to one.

  I showered, scrubbing myself with soap and water, then went to his room and threw on one of his Cowboys jerseys. It hung to my thighs and was just about the length of my dress from the night before. I found an old pair of my jeans in the bottom of the closet and slid into them.

  After Zach took a shower, he walked into the room naked except for the towel he had pressed to his chest.

  I walked over immediately. “Sit down, and let me see it.”

  “Gonna kiss i
t and make it better?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’m not interested.”

  He walked to the dresser and yanked open a drawer. He tossed the bloody towel on the bed long enough to pull on a pair of boxers and jeans. Blood dripped from the wound, and he mopped it up just before it reached the waistband at his hips.

  I dug through a box on the closet floor and pulled out an Ace bandage we’d used on his knee a couple of times after football injuries.

  I tossed the bandage on the bed and went to get some gauze pads. When I returned he was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting.

  I didn’t say a thing. I taped the gauze in place and then wrapped the bandage tight, pressing on it, relieved when the blood didn’t seep through.

  “Does it hurt a lot?”

  “Been hurt worse.”

  I looked into the denim-colored eyes that were studying me.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  He slid a hand up and into my hair, pulling my head down. A moment later, I was flat on my back with him on top of me. We kissed for a few minutes, and I could feel that not all of him was mad at me.

  When he finally rolled off me, we were both breathless.

  “Glad we understand each other,” he said.

  He got up slowly, holding out a hand to me. I let him pull me up, and we stood toe to toe.

  “Where you want to stay while I’m at work? TJ’s? I don’t want you at Kenny and Georgia’s until Kenny’s home.” The look on his face told me that he wasn’t going to drop me off anyplace where I would be alone, and his brother TJ, like all the Sutton boys, had a house full of guns that he wouldn’t be shy about using if trouble came knocking.

  “TJ’s is fine.”

  The Sutton boys, as they were known growing up, were all named after U.S. presidents, GW the oldest, for George Washington, of course. TJ for Thomas Jefferson and Zach for “Old Rough and Ready” Zachary Taylor.

  They’d all married young, but continued to raise hell despite that. Owing to a very bad example set by their hard-drinking father, they liked to stay out all night in bars, drinking and swapping stories, and sometimes getting reckless. To this day, I couldn’t even talk to Zach about the time TJ had wrecked a new car while they were drag racing. Zach just shrugged things like that off. When I said I worried that one of them might end up really hurt or dead if they didn’t knock that stuff off, he just grinned and kissed me and said they’d be all right. There was no talking to the man.

  It was too bad they’d all been cursed with good looks and easy charm, or they might have stood a chance at staying single, but, as things were, the women they couldn’t resist couldn’t resist them either. Me included.

  I’d been warned. My future sisters-in-law, Sherry and Nadine, had taken me aside right before my wedding shower, and Nadine had asked, “Do you love him?” I’d been startled, but replied quickly enough, “Of course.” Sherry had shaken her head and said, “We’re sure sorry to hear that, but welcome to the family.”

  Zach and I pulled into TJ’s driveway. I smiled at Nadine, who waved as she collected a bunch of plastic toys from the front lawn.

  “Hey there,” Nadine said, leaning in Zach’s window to give him a kiss on the cheek.

  “Hot enough for you?” he asked.

  “Hotter than a barbeque in hell,” Nadine said with a grin. “I’m so glad you talked TJ into coming home to keep an eye on things. I’ve got that upstairs bathroom sink that’s leaking. It’s just been waiting for him to have a chance to fix it.”

  “Always glad to be of help. Y’all stay out of trouble,” Zach said.

  I stood in the drive and watched Zach pull away.

  “Well, it’s good to see you, honey.” Nadine said, her dark blond hair swinging stubbornly despite the humidity’s fight to weigh it down. “Come on, let’s go drink a gallon of iced tea.”

  “Got anything stronger?”

  “Oh it’s like that, is it?” She laughed and then said thoughtfully, “I poured TJ’s last bottle of Jim Beam down the drain after he drove that riding lawnmower of his through my sunflowers.” She shook her head. “He had the nerve to say he thought they were weeds! And that it was my own damn fault for nagging him about the lawn and spurring him on to cut the grass at one in the a.m. when he couldn’t see straight. Nagging my ass. He’s lucky I don’t just—”

  Three children burst out the front door, making as much racket as a fifty-member marching band.

  “Crockett, where’s your sister?”

  “Tied up in the backyard,” the boy said, running by without missing a step.

  “Well, you better go untie her before your daddy gets home. You know he’ll whip your butt if he sees you torturing his baby.”

  Crockett considered this and seemed to weigh his options. Clearly seeing the wisdom of avoiding a confrontation with his father, who had a hundred and fifty pounds of muscle on him, he asked, “When will he be home?”

  “Any minute so far as I know,” she said.

  Crockett turned and ran back into the house.

  “He looks so much like Zach,” I said with a smile.

  “Yeah, they don’t come any cuter, God help us.” She gave me a sideways look. “You know, you could get your man to help you make one of your own.”

  “Zach’s not really my man anymore,” I said, but didn’t even sound convincing to myself.

  “That right?” she asked mildly. “Zach was over here one night telling us some story about you with that smile he always gets when he talks about you. And TJ said, ‘Son, what are you doin’ still in love with that woman?’ Zach just grinned and said, ‘Hell, that’s the only good habit I’ve got. Not planning to give it up anytime soon.’ ”

  I smiled and shook my head.

  “So when are you gonna get married again? Zach thought by summer, but here it is fall, and you’re still divorced.”

  Zach had thought we’d be remarried by summer? He’d never mentioned it to me. “Well, there have been a few hitches. Like me sleeping with Bryn Lyons.” I clapped a hand over my mouth, not believing I’d let that pop out.

  “Oh my God. When?”

  “Kind of . . . yesterday.”

  “And Zach knows?”

  I nodded grimly.

  “Hmm. It’s sure a good thing Zach’s a deputy because I wouldn’t want TJ going to jail for helping Zach bury the body.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  Nadine grinned again. Then she laughed, making me laugh with her. “I’m so sorry, but between TJ and the kids, I guess I’ve gone crazy. Now,” she said, fixing me with a pointed look. “What’s your excuse?”

  Chapter 25

  I had half a glass of iced tea and then, when Nadine was busy untangling a walloping fight down the block between her kids and four kids from neighboring houses, I wrote her a nice note and stole her Dodge Ram. I don’t know why people pay for rental cars when so many friends and family members just leave their keys lying around unattended.

  I had no business going to see Bryn Lyons, and, if Zach didn’t die or turn into a werewolf, he was likely to kill me or Bryn, or both of us, if he found out. On the other hand, Bryn was in possession of my cat, my car, my spellbook from Johnny, and very possibly my Edie locket. Wild mustangs with demon riders couldn’t keep me away.

  I pressed the security buzzer determinedly.

  “Can I help you?”

  I didn’t recognize the voice. “Where’s Steve?”

  “Sleeping. He pulled a double yesterday.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Security for Mr. Lyons. Who are you?”

  The new guy wasn’t nearly as nice as Steve. “Tammy Jo Trask. I’d like to see Mr. Lyons and to retrieve my house cat, Mercutio. You might have seen him around. He’s got spots like a leopard, but he’s a lot sweeter.”

  “Trask. You’re on the list, but Mr. Lyons is out.”

  “Can I come in and get my cat?”

  “Sure. Report to Mr. Jenson.”


  “Okey dokey.” The gate slid open. Easy as shooting fish in a bathtub.

  I drove up to the house, and Mr. Jenson met me in the foyer.

  “Hey there,” I said. “I left this morning in kind of a hurry.”

  “Your undergarments are in the dryer. They will be ready shortly.”