Ivy beamed. “Thanks, Bane. You really think so?”
“Yeah. I do. Who’d want their sister dating a lizard?” He smiled and ducked, avoiding Ivy’s good-natured swat before disappearing into the viewing room and slipping his arm around Raven.
“Jerk,” Ivy called after him, and laughed in spite of herself.
Shayde whispered to Ivy as she entered the room behind her brother and Raven. “Hope it works, Ivy. You’re starting to scare me as much as Raven.”
Gareth hurried into the room next, leaving Ivy alone in the foyer with Spike. Maybe this was a bad idea. If her mom found out about the Changing spell, she’d be totally furious. Oh, well. No time like the present. It wasn’t like she could go back now.
“It’s show time, Spike.” Ivy sighed deeply, then took Spike’s arm in hers and followed her friends into viewing room one.
When the Grays remodeled the funeral home, they’d installed full-length moveable partitions to separate the viewing areas. Tonight, every partition had been pushed back making it one huge room. Music boomed from the ceiling-mounted speakers which usually played soothing music meant to calm the grieving. Gourds and carved pumpkins rested on haystacks in the nearby corner. Black and orange streamers twirled from the ceiling, an obvious contrast to the room’s bland beige and soothing blue-green. A cauldron sat on the center of the refreshment table, tendrils of fog from dry ice cascading down the sides. Sparkling purple and orange confetti littered the black paper tablecloth. Teachers and chaperones were busy serving punch and soda in black plastic cups.
Cookies, cake, and fake Jack o’ Lanterns topped to the brim with chips filled another table, replacing the casket that would normally have been in viewing room two. Tonight, the only coffin in sight was a black, varnished casket to the right of the doorway. Fake spider webs stretched out from the casket’s handles and plastic spiders had been woven in along the thicker strands of webbing.
Spike stared a bit too long at them.
“Come on, Spike,” Ivy said, urging him on.
Shayde and Bane were standing near the refreshment table, and she made her way toward them, squeezing in between the crowd chatting at the entrance. A few of them gave Spike a once-over and Ivy smiled as she passed them. Spike was definitely drawing attention.
She expected Dean to be with his usual group and he surprised her when he emerged from the crowd alone, nearly running into her. He had dressed as Robin Hood complete with green tunic and matching tights, which she tried not to stare at. Ivy bet Robin Hood never looked so good. In fact, Dean could make Adonis jealous. The image of the naked Greek statue crossed her mind and she felt her face flush almost painfully. She averted her eyes to his hands, which held two sodas. Tara had to be close by.
“Sorry, MacTavish. Didn’t see you.” Even his voice was gorgeous—smooth and masculine. He surveyed Spike, then her. “Nice costumes. They’re, um, sweet.”
Ivy patted Spike’s arm, and Spike smiled serenely. “Thanks,” she said, unable to do anything except stare at his ice-blue eyes and his to-die-for flawless face. For a moment, she thought she’d quit breathing.
“Well, see you later,” Dean said with a smile before walking away.
He smiled at me! For a second or two, Ivy thought the room spun. She couldn’t contain her own grin as she met up with Shayde and the gang who were talking to Nick and a couple of his friends. Nick had dressed in all black from his shoes and greatcoat, to the tall, rimmed hat on his head. He held a beaker filled with a bubbling, greenish concoction. Apparently, he was Dr. Jekyll. It was the perfect costume for a demon.
Nick surveyed Spike. “Hey, Ivy.”
“Hi,” she replied nervously. It felt awkward standing here with Spike. Nick had asked her out twice now. Last week, and once over the summer. Both times she’d said no. Sure, he was a demon, and sure, he had a reputation, much of which was probably overly exaggerated. So why did he make her so nervous?
Because he reeks of trouble, she thought. Definitely not trustworthy.
Raven handed Ivy and Spike their drinks and whispered, “Nick still has a thing for you. His heart rate goes up when you’re around.”
Ivy tried to ignore Raven’s comment, including her weird ability to hear someone’s heartbeat, and took a swallow of her soda. Nick followed suit and took a drink of his own, never taking his eyes off her. Ivy felt a hint of remorse. If he’d been anyone other than a demon she could see herself saying yes to his advances. He was off her list as dating material. He’d actually never really even been on it due to their fathers’ friendship, but maybe he wasn’t quite the bad boy she’d convinced herself he was. Maybe she could be at least a little more social to him.
Nick leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Want a sip? It’s got some rum in it. I enchanted the beaker to smell like soda. No one will ever know.”
Ivy looked at the fizzing liquid, which now matched something else tingly deep inside her and shook her head.
Spike had downed his drink and was busily licking the inside of the cup. Ivy snatched it from him and handed it to Raven.
Nick gave Spike a long, curious glance.
“Not a good idea on the sugary stuff,” Shayde said.
Ivy couldn’t have agreed more. The Coke had definitely wired Spike, and she didn’t think she could pass off licking the inside of a plastic cup as a college thing. His head jerked left and right, eyes intently scanning the room. She murmured a Quieting spell, hoping no one would notice and that it would make Spike appear more normal.
Unfortunately, Nick was still watching Spike pretty closely. While demons didn’t always use the same spells as witches and wizards, he’d be one of the first to figure out what she’d done. On the other hand, changing Spike to human might be dark magic for witches, but probably not for demons. Would he tell anyone?
Nick slid a suspicious glance her way.
What a stupid idea this had been.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she warned him.
Nick grinned. “Like what? Care to talk about it on the dance floor?” He leaned forward and whispered in her ear again. “Are you always this full of surprises? I like it.”
Any retort she had stuck in her throat. She fumbled for some way to excuse herself.
“Ivy!” a soft, lilting voice said behind her. How Ivy hated that voice. “Dean told me you were here with someone older. I just had to come see for myself.”
Things were going from bad to worse. Ivy clenched her teeth, but managed a tight smile as she turned to face Tara. She wore a stunning, wispy violet dress that swirled around her hips. Thin straps gave way to a plunging neckline that created a sickening perfect meeting of Wonderbra and cleavage. The shade of violet somehow made her hair blonder, shinier. And of course, she wore colored contacts to make her eyes slightly violet, as well. Pink lip gloss glistened on her pouty lips. Pale lavender wings made of delicate silk fluttered softly behind her.
How nice, Ivy thought. Tinkerbell goes Playmate.
Tara sauntered forward, parting Nick’s group like a sea. Everyone stared, transfixed. Even Ivy couldn’t help it. She glanced at Nick, who diverted his attention away from Tara quicker than the rest of his group, his eyes meeting Ivy’s. He smiled uncomfortably and coughed. The only one not staring at Tara was Spike. This obviously irritated Tara, who could never stand to be anything other than the center of attention.
She inched closer to Spike who didn’t appear to notice. “And just who is this, Ivy? Friend of the family? A chaperone perhaps?”
It would have been clear to a human male that Tara was flirting—hard. Her proximity to Spike and the way she was almost thrusting her chest at him. Ivy wanted to rip Tara’s hair out. Or at the very least, deflate her breasts like helium balloons and have her go flying off as far away as possible. Like out a window.
She forced a smile. “He’s my date. He’s a friend of the Grays.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly.
“I’m Tara Prescott.” She extended her hand to Spike. At firs
t, Spike did nothing, then he took Tara’s hand and shook it gently.
Ivy and Shayde exchanged glances, and Ivy knew they were thinking the same thing—the spell was accelerating. Spike was becoming more human than they had expected.
“Name! Name!” Raven whispered in Ivy’s ear.
Until now, Ivy hadn’t thought about a name and she said the first thing that came to mind. “William Idolson. Friends call him Spike.”
“I bet you could fly pretty far with those.” Spike glanced at Tara’s chest, then pointed at her wings. “The wings. They’re nice.”
Oh, this is so not going well, Ivy thought with a groan.
“Cleavage. Sucks the brain cells out of guys every time,” Raven whispered.
Ivy had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
Tara smiled, feigning modesty. “I’m glad you like them.”
Ivy stole a glance at Shayde who looked as though she were going to puke. Ivy ran a hand down the sleeve of Spike’s costume and leaned into him, willing Spike to focus on her instead of Tara, which he did. Good. The situation was back under control. She let out a sigh of relief. Still, she couldn’t help but notice that both Nick and Tara were sporting scowls.
Chapter 3
“Hey!” a voice yelled from across the room. “Who let him in here?”
Everyone’s attention turned toward the commotion. An old, haggard-looking wolf ambled to the middle of the room and flopped onto the floor, a long and whitish-grey object hanging from his mouth. What was it? Ivy couldn’t tell with people moving in and out of the way.
Tara flung her hair over her shoulder, exposing two embroidered dragonflies attached to her dress. Spike leaned toward Tara and Ivy took a tighter hold of his hand.
“What’s that old wolf got in his mouth?” a voice inquired through the rising murmur of the crowd.
“Oh my God, it’s a bone! A human bone!” someone else yelled.
“Uncle Lucas?” Shayde said quietly.
Oh, no, Ivy thought. Not Shayde and Bane’s crazy geriatric werewolf uncle. Not now! And he’d obviously been to the old section of the cemetery. Again.
Someone screamed.
“There go the Regulars,” Raven complained.
Shayde and Bane rushed forward, bending down as they spoke to Uncle Lucas. Shayde tried to pry the bone from his mouth, but Uncle Lucas was having none of it. He grumbled and held the bone tightly between his teeth. He growled, although it came out more like a wheeze. At least to Ivy’s ears. From the look of the crowd, some people weren’t so sure the growl was harmless.
“What the hell?” One of the teachers asked, his voice high and panicked. “Did he eat someone?”
Someone else chimed in. “Did he dig up someone’s grave?”
Raven shrugged. “Yeah. He does that.”
The Connor pack had done a great job of keeping Uncle Lucas’s senility low-key. Until tonight. Uncle Lucas loved to dig things up in the graveyard. He’d been doing it off and on for years. And tomorrow, everyone would be talking about it.
A small group of people headed for the exit.
Spike shifted back and forth on his feet.
“What’s with you?” Ivy asked, not really expecting an answer. His eyes had that weird, crazy look again. In fact, his eyes were enormous and he was staring at the embroidered dragonflies pinned below Tara’s right shoulder. Tara of course, would think he was staring elsewhere. That was so like her.
Ivy whispered, “They’re not real, Spike. Can’t you tell the difference between real and fake?”
Spike’s tongue unfurled from his mouth and he snatched at one of the dragonflies.
Apparently not.
Tara squealed in surprise and threw a hard punch, hitting Spike squarely in the chest. “Pervert!” she shouted.
Spike simply grabbed her by both arms and made another attempt at catching the dragonfly with his tongue.
People were starting to shove in their attempt to distance themselves from Uncle Lucas. Some probably thought he’d gnaw on them next. Regulars began to run for the exit. Folding chairs clattered to the floor. Spike remained oblivious, intent on the elusive dragonfly attached to Tara.
“Maybe we should have fed him first,” Raven said almost casually.
Tara wasn’t taking it as well as Raven. She continued to curse and beat on Spike. Ivy cringed as Spike took a direct punch to the head.
“Take that, you sick son-of-a-bitch!” Tara yelled.
Raven smoothed her red corset as she watched Tara and Spike. “Hmmm. You’d think with her prestigious witch and wizard bloodlines, she could manage a simple Repelling spell. Still, not a bad left hook to the jaw, wouldn’t you say?”
Tara took another slug at Spike, but he caught her fist and held it. “Let go of me!” she shrieked.
With all the commotion, Ivy didn’t know where to look first. Shayde was still tugging at the femur bone in her uncle’s mouth. The remaining Regulars continued to scream and race around in circles. Every Kindred capable of magic was busy hurling Calming spells, Cloaking spells, Memory Spells—anything to regain control of the situation. Tables and chairs were sent flying, sending drinks and snacks everywhere.
Raven’s observation that the Regulars had lost it was an understatement.
Most of the Regulars who lived in Northwick for any length of time were used to a lot of strange things. Usually, they chose to ignore it, or maybe they didn’t see it, no one knew for certain. Regulars had a way of seeing only what they wanted. At least that’s what many of the Kindreds thought. Even Ivy had to admit tonight’s events would be hard to ignore. The thought of becoming dinner tended to freak them out.
“Stay calm!” Mr. Evans ordered. Mr. Evans, one of Northwick’s science teachers, was an older wizard with thick black glasses and a balding head that he tried to make less noticeable by combing hair from one side over to the other. He’d worn a kilt as his costume, which was bad enough, but his bony knees and hairy legs were enough to make a troll blanch. And besides, how convincing could anyone be when a wolf crashes a party and decides to chew on a human leg bone while another partygoer tries to devour a student?
Okay, so Spike might not actually be trying to eat Tara. Although the thought was a pleasant one, Ivy realized she had to call off her date.
“No! No!” Ivy shouted at Spike. “Stop it!” She tugged at Spike’s arm, trying to pry him free of Tara. But Spike seemed determined to get the dragonfly. Ivy stepped back, prepared to cast a Repelling spell of her own when she caught a flash of olive green from the corner of her eye. Dean barreled toward them, ready to tackle Spike.
In the same instant, a long, thin object spun mid-air, changed directions, and hit Dean squarely on the head.
Oh crap! The bone!
Dean started to go down, precisely as the refreshment table toppled over in his path and he met it head-on with a loud thunk.
“Whoa,” Nick said, the only one standing near the overturned table. “Sorry about that, Peter Pan, that’s got to hurt!” Nick didn’t make any effort to help Dean from the floor, nor did he seem surprised at the bone’s sudden change in direction. Nick grinned, then leaned against the back wall where he watched the mayhem as though it were a weekend tennis match.
“Robin Hood,” Ivy corrected. “Not Peter Pan. And that wasn’t very nice.”
“Whatever,” Nick replied, still watching the chaos.
Dean struggled to his feet in time to see Tara take another swing at Spike. Spike finally let go and tried to retreat, but Tara flung herself at him. “Come back here, you freakin’ pervert!” she demanded.
As Tara grabbed him by the hair, Spike did the unthinkable. He’d finally had enough. Before Ivy could blink, Spike ejected blood from the corners of his eyes directly at his attacker, just like Raven had warned.
Droplets of blood sprayed Tara’s hair, dress, and face. She opened her mouth to scream and instead let out a shrill “EEeep!” before passing out in a rumpled heap on a bowl of tortilla chips.
<
br /> Raven lifted the hem of her dress and prodded Tara with her shoe. “I think the fairy outfit was a bad choice. She makes a better Carrie look-alike.”
Spike wheeled around and darted for the exit along with a few more screaming and panicked Regulars. Bane and Gareth chased after him.
Less than a dozen or so people remained in the room. Even Mr. Evans had managed to shove his way out the door with the last of the Regulars.
Raven grimaced at the sight. “I’ll never fantasize about what men wear under kilts again.”
“Uh, oh.” Shayde motioned toward the teachers and the Grays heading their way. “We are all so dead. This is way worse than I expected.” She picked at a clump of orange icing hanging from her hair. “Spike’s gone, and I think your mom is the least of your worries, Ivy.”
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Melissa Smith
Write Out of Grief
A common question people ask a writer is what made them decide to sit down and start writing in the first place. For me, it was grief.
While in high school, I wrote. I had taken journalism and the teacher loved my writings. Two pieces of my work had been published in two different school publications. I was also asked to join the staff for the school paper, but declined. I just didn’t like writing the things wanted for a paper. I liked creating stories to take you places. Inventing new worlds and people to live in them. I stopped writing after getting out of school and didn’t start again for several long years.
December 2008 had started like any other December before it. I was out shopping for those perfect gifts for each member of my family and loving every minute of it. By my side was my shopping partner. My mom. My best friend. This year was a little different, as we made our rounds trying to get most of her shopping done earlier than her normal pace of slow (she was known to be out shopping as late as Christmas Eve), because she was set to have her final knee replacement surgery on the 19th. That day was also the last day of work I had before school let out for Christmas Break.
Indie Chicks: 25 Women 25 Personal Stories Page 74
