“I always find him funny,” I said. “Even when he’s being serious I think he’s funny.”
“That’s why you two are the perfect fit,” Helen said. “He always finds you funny, too, and I don’t get what you’re saying half the time.”
“That’s because she has an acid tongue,” Sami said. I think she was trying to be helpful and didn’t realize she was slightly off the mark. “He also says she has a talented tongue. I don’t know what that means, though.”
“You guys really need to monitor what you say in front of her,” Helen clucked.
“She has ears like a dog,” I said. “It’s not my fault. I say only proper things in front of her.”
Everyone snorted – including Sami – and I was pretty sure they were maligning my character.
“What’s Dad doing?” Sami shifted her eyes to the invisible perimeter fence. She knew it was there, but we’d rarely used it during her youth. “Is he locking us in?”
“He’s locking the bad people out,” I clarified. “Don’t make a thing about it. He’s not happy, but … it will keep you and Trouble safe.”
Sami knit her eyebrows as she watched James and Aric work. “Does someone bad want me because they think I’m magic?”
“Of course not,” Helen lied, earning a firm headshake from me.
“We don’t know,” I said, opting for honesty. “It’s a good bet that’s why this is happening, though.”
“But I don’t understand,” Sami said. “I can only do a few things, and none of them are very big. Why wouldn’t they want you instead?”
“Because your mother burns people who look at her funny,” Paris answered. “She even burns them alive sometimes.”
I kicked her shin under the table and made a face.
“What?” Paris was confused. “You do.”
“What is she talking about?” Sami asked, intrigued. “Have you burned people alive before? Are you like the girl in that fire movie you had me watch, even though it had no hot actors in it.”
“That movie is called Firestarter and it’s a classic,” I said. “She’s not talking about anything important. Ignore her.”
“Whoops.” Paris shot me an apologetic look. It was just now sinking in that Aric and I glossed over a few important details when relating our history together to Sami. I didn’t think stories of me crushing wolf spines and incinerating a rogue pack would help her sleep well at night.
“That movie was not good,” Sami said, completely missing Paris’ chagrin. “They had horrible clothes.”
“That’s how people dressed in the eighties,” I said. “It was the dark age of fashion. I’m not making it up. Remind me to pull up some photos on the computer later for you because explaining how people ratted their hair and what Aqua Net is won’t translate well without photographic proof.”
“Is that why those people in that other movie you made me watch looked like dorks?” Sami always boasted an inquisitive mind. Right now that trait was giving me a headache.
“What movie?”
“The one where they hit the balls with the sticks and killed all of their classmates.”
“We already talked about this,” I explained. “Heathers is a classic, and while the fashion doesn’t hold up, the message does. You don’t want to hang around mean girls. If you do you might have to poison them with Drano.”
“Oh, what a nice message to send,” Helen deadpanned. “What is wrong with you?”
“Hey, I’m introducing her to fine cinema,” I said. “I should be applauded.”
“Dad said you hear applause in your head when you do things all of the time,” Sami said, causing an approaching Aric to cringe when he realized what she’d said.
“Oh, really?”
“She’s exaggerating,” Aric volunteered. “What I really said is that I want to applaud you whenever you do anything.”
“Nice save,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“I do my best.” Aric dropped a kiss on top of my head before shifting his eyes to the bowl at the center of the table. “Ooh. Is that your world-famous pasta salad?”
Helen beamed. “Yes. It’s your favorite.”
“I thought your favorite was when I make Mrs. Grass soup?” I challenged.
“Both are my favorites,” Aric replied. “Mom used to make this salad for me all of the time when I was a kid. I loved it.”
“I had to make my own pasta, but I figure you’re worth it.” Helen squeezed Aric’s cheek for good measure.
Wait … she made the pasta? “How did you make pasta?” I asked, legitimately curious. “Why not use the stuff in the boxes in the pantry?”
“Because that’s not real pasta,” Helen replied. “That’s preservatives in a box.”
“Yeah, but it’s already made.”
“I prefer fresh pasta,” Helen said. “You had all of the ingredients. I was worried you wouldn’t have a pasta maker, but there was one in one of your cupboards.”
“We have a pasta maker?” That was news to me.
“It was in the cupboard next to the refrigerator.”
“I think it’s that thing we got from Dad’s golf buddies when we got married,” Aric said. “It’s done nothing but collect dust for twelve years.”
“That thing?”
“What did you think it was for?” Helen asked.
“I thought it was some elaborate device to make hair for big Play-Doh people,” I said. “Huh. I guess we used it wrong that day we were bored, Sami.”
Sami giggled as she wrestled with Trouble. “My stuffed animals never looked more colorful, though.”
“Play-Doh?” Helen arched a dubious eyebrow. “I guess it’s good I washed it thoroughly before using it.”
“I think Play-Doh is edible, so we’re good either way,” I said. “It’s made for little kids. They stick everything in their mouths.”
“Well … wonderful,” Helen said, making a face as she turned to her husband as he closed the distance. “Did you find anything?”
“I did,” James said. “I figure we can talk about it over lunch. Ooh, is that your world-famous pasta salad?”
Helen nodded, pleased to be the center of attention.
“It might even have some added Play-Doh,” I supplied.
“Great,” James said, not missing a beat. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”
“SO WHAT did you find out?” Aric asked, his mouth full of food.
Sami giggled and wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”
“Hey, your mother doesn’t cook,” Aric said. “I haven’t had this pasta salad in years. I’m going to enjoy it.”
“You said she didn’t need to cook because you married her for her looks,” Sami protested.
Aric shot me a worried look before tapping the end of Sami’s nose. “Do you have to repeat everything you hear?”
“Just the funny stuff.”
“Eat your lunch,” Aric instructed, tapping the edge of Sami’s plate with his fork. “Baby, I love the way you cook. I’m also a big fan of how beautiful you are. Just remember that I love you best when you’re trying to decide how angry to be later tonight.”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” I said dryly, shaking my head before shifting my attention to James. “What did you find out?”
“The house belonged to a farmer named Michael Dolloway,” James said. “He inherited the property about thirty years ago – and it’s been in the family for as long as the records go – but he mysteriously disappeared a few years after taking possession of the house. No one has seen or heard from him since.”
“Dolloway?”
“Like Katie Dolloway?” Sami asked, leaning forward.
“Who is Katie Dolloway?” James asked.
“A horrible little snipe,” I answered.
“Mom!” Sami scorched me with a look. “She’s my best friend.”
“She’s not a friend at all,” I countered. “She’s a terrible little monster, and her mother is even worse.”
�
��I wonder if our Dolloways have anything to do with these other Dolloways,” Aric mused. “That’s not exactly a common name in a limited population area like this.”
“Well, I’ve always thought Cissy Dolloway was a witch,” I offered. “I might’ve been right all along.”
“Don’t you do anything to make Katie hate me,” Sami warned. “I’ll never forgive you if you do.”
“I saved your life last night,” I reminded her. “You owe me for the next two weeks. You can’t say things like that or I’m going to start charging you ten bucks each time you say something I don’t like.”
“You’re fining her?” Aric asked, tilting his head as he pursed his lips. “Actually, I like that. Your mind is always working, baby.” He lightly rapped his knuckles against my head for emphasis. “You’re a genius.”
“You guys suck,” Sami sighed, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead. “I’m pretty sure Mrs. Dolloway has nothing to do with this.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” James said. “It seems there’s a legend about the property. People say it’s haunted.”
“Which people?” Paris asked.
“Ah, I think you mean witch people,” James said. “W-I-T-C-H people.”
“Oh, good, a spelling game,” I drawled.
James ignored me as he warmed to the story. “So, the legend goes that the Dolloway family was cursed for more than a century,” he said. “The women would live to be old and gray, but the men would only hang around long enough to father children and then disappear.”
“I’m liking this story so far,” I said.
Aric squeezed my knee under the table to silence me.
“So these women got pregnant with a daughter and the men would disappear,” James said. “It would always be one mother and one daughter, and this happened several times over the course of about a hundred and fifty years. The last woman to live there was Stella Dolloway. She died two years before Michael took possession of the house.
“Michael was not a direct descendant,” he continued. “It seems Stella never had a child, and the line of witches was broken. Michael was a shirttail relation from a branch of the family that broke off long ago.”
“Just because they were women living on their own and the men kept dying, that doesn’t mean they were witches,” Paris pointed out.
“According to some reports my office staff got their hands on, the Dolloway women offered to cast spells for money,” James said. “I guess they were renowned for love spells. Whenever a heartbroken woman in the area approached them they fixed her love life for her.”
“Love spells are dark magic,” Paris said. “No reputable Wiccan would cast one.”
“I’m just repeating what I was told,” James said, holding up his hands. “The women made a lot of enemies with the churchgoing folk, especially because they kept taking the Dolloway name after their husbands died, and it seems there was a war of sorts in the sixties. Threats were bandied about and … you know the drill.”
“The Dolloways were isolated,” I surmised. “That probably made them angry.”
“One of the notations in the file said they promised to live forever and wreak havoc on their enemies,” James said. “We all know how that goes with evil megalomaniacs, though, so take it with a grain of salt.”
“Maybe they were the wraiths,” I suggested.
“That’s a possibility,” James conceded. “Did the shadows feel female?”
That was a good question. “No. They felt male.”
“Then maybe they were the missing husbands,” Aric said, rolling his neck until it cracked. “Maybe they didn’t disappear. Maybe they were killed but tethered to the land as some sort of supernatural security system.”
“And maybe whoever stumbled on the house figured that out because they know enough about magic to use the wraiths,” Paris added. “There’s a lot of literature on them, although the practice of anchoring your soul to a physical object is frowned upon.”
“What about the previous owner?” I asked, wetting my lips. “You said he disappeared. If the Dolloways were all gone and they were killing their husbands, what happened to Michael?”
“I have no idea,” James said. “Apparently everyone thinks the house is haunted and that’s why no one has come forth to claim it. The house wouldn’t be worth anything now anyway. The land could be, though.”
“Not as long as it’s haunted,” I pointed out.
“Technically it’s not haunted any longer,” James said. “You ripped the wraiths apart.”
“If that’s all of them. We have no idea if I got them all.”
“That’s true.”
“That’s a weird story,” Sami said, mayonnaise on the corner of her mouth as she munched on her sandwich. She made fun of her father’s eating habits, but she often mimicked them. Oh, who am I kidding? I’m not exactly a pretty eater either. “That kind of sounds like the ghost story Katie told at my slumber party.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s the story she told,” Sami said. “You and Dad were feeling each other up on the swing so you probably didn’t hear it.”
“Nice,” James said, shaking his head.
“We weren’t feeling each other up,” Aric said. “We were making plans to do that later. That’s not really important, though, is it?”
“Sami, do you remember Katie’s story?” I asked.
“Not really,” Sami said. “It was something about witches and ghosts and people disappearing, though. I’m sure of it.”
“We need to find out how these Dolloways are connected to the other Dolloways,” I said. “I think it’s too much of a coincidence. There has to be a tie.”
“I’ll get on that,” James said. “What do we do if there is a connection?”
“Well, the good news is that I’ve been looking for a reason to kill Cissy Dolloway since I met her,” I said. “Fingers crossed, kids. I might finally get my wish.”
Sami’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
“You mom is just kidding,” Aric said. “Well … kind of.”
I wasn’t kidding at all. I knew that woman was evil from the moment I met her. Things were finally slipping into place.
Sixteen
“What do you see?”
“A really boring woman eating ice cream with her really annoying kid,” I replied, licking my cone as Paris and I studied Cissy and Katie Dolloway from about thirty feet away. “What do you see?”
“Someone who desperately needs to realize that she’s not fooling anyone with that blond hair,” Paris replied. “Seriously, look how dark those eyebrows are. Everyone knows you’re not really blond, lady.”
Once thing I can always count on Paris for is a snarky reaction to a woman I hate. It wasn’t always like that. After our freshman year together she paired up with the roommate I hated – Brittany, blech – and I moved in with the girl she hated – Laura, double blech – and we had a few rough months. Because Laura ultimately turned out to be evil and I burned her alive, and Brittany also turned out to be evil (before ultimately turning tolerable), just in a different way, we found our way back to each other. Ever since, hating the same people was kind of a thing we did as a bonding exercise.
“Yeah, I know.” After lunch James decided to dig into the Dolloway history while Aric and Sami got to work building a doghouse for Trouble. The thing I love most about my husband – although the list is long and varied – is the fact that he never worries about assigning gender roles. Sami wanted a doghouse and he was happy to work on a project with her. Heath joined in, while Helen decided to reorganize my kitchen. It’s not like I use it anyway, so it didn’t really bother me. That left Paris and me at loose ends, so we decided to go to town for supplies. That started as a trip to the grocery store and ended with Paris claiming the baby had a craving, so we had to get ice cream. I had no intention of arguing, and finding Katie and Cissy at the ice cream shop turned out to be a happy coincidence. “That kid is evil.”
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br /> “You’ve told me,” Paris said. “I think you might be overreacting, though. The kid is probably just emulating her mother, and since you don’t like the mother you’re projecting.”
“No, there’s something smarmy about the kid,” I said. “We’ve tried to teach Sami to be her own person, yet she’s obsessed with that little twit’s approval.”
“It’s the age, Zoe,” Paris intoned. “Everyone needs someone to validate them. Even you.”
“That’s not true,” I scoffed. “I don’t need anyone to validate me.”
“No, that’s not even remotely true,” Paris countered. “You might not like to admit it but you were constantly on edge until Aric validated you in college.”
“When did he do that?”
“When he fell in love with you.”
That made absolutely no sense. “At the time I didn’t care if he fell in love with me.” That was a total lie, but for some reason Paris turning the conversation around made me uncomfortable. “I thought he was hot and everything, but I didn’t need his validation.”
“If that’s what you want to tell yourself, fine,” Paris said. “Just know that you’re rewriting history, and I recognize what you’re doing. You never felt comfortable in your own skin until you hooked up with Aric. That comfort level took a huge dip after the whole Laura thing, and those months you were apart were painful … for all of us.
“When you decided to reclaim your life, though, it was because of him. He gave you the strength to do what you had to do,” she continued. “I’m not saying you lived your life on Aric’s terms, but he was always important to you.”
“Whatever.” I pressed the heel of my hand against my forehead as I stared daggers into Cissy’s back. I had no idea what she was talking about with the hellion she raised, but I had a feeling it was something nasty. “Do you think they could be involved?”
Paris shrugged. “Anything is possible,” she said, refusing to make a fuss when I changed the subject. She was used to my whims. “I mean … maybe they are witches. Maybe this woman asked her daughter to get close to Sami for a reason.”
“And maybe they’re innocent and I just hate them because they’re obnoxious,” I supplied, exhaling heavily. “We need to find out if they’re tied to that house. We can’t do anything until we do that.”
Dying Covenant: The Complete Series Page 14
