by K. F. Breene
“Your mother is nuts!” She wiped away a tear. “Pure nuts. What is she even doing with herself these days? Wasn’t she thinking about getting a job?”
“She has a job. Haunting the house. That’s why she wasn’t concerned about my bringing a ghost home. Our house is already ruled by a poltergeist. No other entity would dare invade her territory.”
Veronica stopped, shaking with laughter. “It’s only funny ’cause it’s true.”
“But anyway, I don’t know what she’s up to these days. I don’t ask, and she doesn’t volunteer.”
“She’s only had…what? A total of five jobs since your dad died, right? Or less?”
I shrugged, a familiar pang tweaking my heart. My father had died when I was eight, an accident at work. The feeling of loss wasn’t as strong anymore, but I suspected it would never completely go away.
“About that many. I don’t know.” We meandered along the street, pausing once for Veronica to read over a sign. No adjustments to be made. “My dad left us plenty of money, supposedly. My mother is great at budgeting, as you’ve probably noticed. So she doesn’t have to work. But she does get bored.”
“She’s not working now, though?”
“No. Yet she doesn’t seem listless, so whatever hobby she’s newly developed is keeping her occupied.”
“Knitting?”
“She gave up knitting. Couldn’t figure it out.”
Veronica nodded and smiled. “That’s right. She stabbed the couch with a knitting needle in frustration.”
“Yes. She has some rage issues.”
“We got one. Oh wow, this is a doozy!” Veronica rushed forward to a “missing” sign featuring a black-and-white cat. The woman did not pull any punches when it came to grammar.
“Why are you still living with your parents?” I asked, digging into my pockets. “Don’t you make enough to move on?”
“Yeah. But…” She shrugged as she worked. “I’m in the old part of the house and my parents largely stick to the newer addition. They leave me alone. It’s like having roommates while also getting free room and board. I’m fine until you’re ready.”
“Until I’m ready?”
“Yeah.” She straightened up and surveyed her handiwork. “You won’t be able to move out of your mom’s place on your own. So when you’re ready, you and I can get an apartment. Rent is expensive and people are weird. We’d best stick together.”
My heart swelled at the same time as a strange itch formed between my shoulder blades. A car passed, kicking up spray that didn’t reach the curb. A child looked out, meeting my gaze.
I rolled my shoulders, but while the squishy feeling in my middle from Veronica’s offer eased away, that weird itch grew stronger. It felt like…eyes. Like someone watching me.
I turned, surveying the area. A shape in black, like a shoulder and the side of a head, disappeared behind the corner of a house up the way. Bushes swayed from the leg that had passed them. There was no path that way, no easy way of getting around. I doubted the homeowner would’ve moved around the yard in the same way.
Someone was spying.
“Ronnie,” I said, clutching her forearm. “Let’s go.”
“I just have these last two little slips to do. Honestly, are they too good for spellcheck?”
Shivers of warning replaced the itch. All I could think of was getting home. The safety of my house. But while my mother was a force all her own, I had to own that she was an older woman with nothing but a few knives and decorative swords. If that stranger did barge in, it probably wouldn’t go as smoothly as my imagination would like to believe. Spikes wouldn’t snap out from the walls and acid wouldn’t rain from the ceiling. Even so, everything in me said to get home as quickly as possible.
“We have to go.” I took two steps closer to Veronica when that itch came back. The shape hadn’t reappeared, but that wasn’t the direction of my third eye’s warning. It was across the street, down on the left.
I squinted through the falling rain, zeroing in on a messy hedge. The twilight messed with my vision and depth perception. The jagged holes seemed like wells of darkness.
Movement caught my eye, off to the right. I snapped my head that way, but whatever had moved was now out of sight. The street was deserted except for the lurkers I could feel but not see.
“When has this street ever been dead silent?” I asked Veronica in a weak voice.
She backed away from the sign, checking over her corrections. “It gets quiet. Everything around here gets quiet.”
“In the middle of the night, sure. But it’s rush hour. People should be on their way home from work.”
“Huh. You’re right.” Veronica put a hand to a hip as she looked up and down the street. Her umbrella swayed as she moved. “That’s weird. Maybe the weather is keeping people or something?”
Fear sparked deep in my gut as I remembered the deadened street from last night. The battle just about to kick off.
Again, my mother’s house called to me. It might not make sense, and maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but it was the only sanctuary I knew. That woman was a pain in my butt, but she always had an answer. Always.
“Let’s go.” I grabbed Veronica’s sleeve. “Let’s get out of here.”
“What’s the matter?” Veronica started moving, hurrying at my side. “Penelope Bristol, something has you spooked. What is it? What’s been happening lately?”
“Trust me, I wish I knew.” I cut through the grass at the corner, welcoming Old Man Pete to burst out of his house and yell at us to get off his lawn. At least it would be something expected and familiar.
“Speed up,” I said.
“Penny, you’re starting to scare me.” Veronica glanced behind her, making her umbrella war with mine. “Someone is behind us.”
I clutched her and spun. I could run fast, and for a long time, but Veronica couldn’t. She’d never run track and had hated gym. She’d be dead in the water. I couldn’t leave her behind.
I caught sight of the man immediately, a slight figure rolling toward us on a skateboard with a black hood shadowing his face. He stepped down to push his foot off the ground twice before he went back to gliding along, heading straight for us.
“Okay. Okay, think.” I racked my brain for anything that might help. Snippets of that zombie spell came to mind, and I searched for a piece that I could take apart and reword. My mother’s herb books flashed through my mind, and then the random volume tucked into her forgotten bookshelf. But as the figure bore down on us, nothing magical surfaced. I had no arsenal with which to protect myself.
Chapter Thirteen
“We have to fight.” I grabbed the handle of my umbrella with both hands. “We can gouge him.”
“Fight?” Veronica’s voice trailed off in fear and confusion, but she followed my lead, clutching her own umbrella. “I should’ve brought the heavy-duty one,” she murmured.
I grinned through the rampaging beat of my heart. Veronica was a trooper.
“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” we heard, a high-pitched voice dripping with disdain. I recognized it immediately.
“Billy Timmons,” I muttered, straightening up. He was the worst, but at least he wasn’t smart enough to kill me and hide the body. I had that going for me.
He rolled to a stop and brushed back the dark hood of his jacket. His grin was smeared across his face. “I heard your mother was wandering around the neighborhood in the nude this morning.” He tsked and shook his head. “When are you going to put her in the funny farm? It’s a shame that she’s not getting the help she so desperately needs.”
“She was in a robe, you nitwit,” I said, turning and continuing on my way. “Get your story straight.”
“Oh yeah, like that’s any better. Tell me, are you still living at home because you’re broke and desperate, or because your mother is?”
“You’re still living at home, too,” Veronica said, glancing back at him.
“I’m in
school, that’s why. What’s your excuse?” Billy rolled beside me and shoved me out of his way.
I barreled into Veronica before I could right myself, my fear from earlier quickly turning to rage. “People who are in school for six years are called doctors. What is it you’re studying?”
He smirked back at us from his lofty perch. “How to get laid. Maybe you should try it.” He pushed the ground and rolled on.
“At least we have actual cars,” I yelled after him.
“I hate when he does that. Gives a stupid rebuttal, then takes off so he gets the last word. I mean…” Veronica stared after him. “He’s learning how to get laid? Even if that wasn’t sleazy and gross, it still wouldn’t make him sound cool. In six years, he still can’t get a girl? His lack of success speaks for itself. But did I have a chance to sound a logical argument? No, I did not. Because off he went, a twenty-four-year-old on a freaking skateboard. How does he even have the right to taunt us? He’s on a skateboard in the rain.”
“We’re wandering around with markers, fixing signs.” I brushed the hair out of my face and glanced around us. The feeling was still there. The watchfulness. The eyes digging into my back.
Billy wasn’t the source of that. The lurkers were still out there.
“There is that, yes,” Veronica said, oblivious to the danger around us. “But at least we have jobs. We win, whatever way you want to slice it. I wish he’d stay still long enough for me to tell him that.”
I saw my car up ahead, waiting out in front of my house, a beacon for anyone who had my license plate number. Down the street, someone was pulling into their garage, the red of their taillights washing across the cement of their driveway.
Amidst the whole sorry scene, my mother’s house pulsed with a feeling of safety I’d always taken for granted.
“Come on.” I tugged Veronica, getting her to move faster again.
“Penny, you are not telling me something big, and I want to know what it is. Something definitely has you spooked.”
“Yes, fine, but not right now.” I glanced behind us. A flicker of movement caught my eye, but I couldn’t tell if it was a tree waving in the wind, or someone ducking into a yard. “Almost there.”
I dragged Veronica across the street by her wrist, sighing in relief as soon as my foot landed on our property. The sense of dread that had been growing in my body muted. I looked out at the quiet neighborhood. Nothing moved.
Had it all been my imagination?
With a last glance down at our property line, I pulled Veronica up the walk and to our porch. “Just come in really quickly, okay? I want to see what my mother has to say.”
“Oh, I’m coming in. I don’t care if I have to choke down your mother’s burned roast—I want to know what’s going on.”
I turned the handle and pushed, part of me terrified the door would be locked and I’d be trapped outside. After it swung open, thankfully, I dragged Veronica inside and gave her a little shove away from the door so I could shut it and lock it. As soon as it gave a satisfying click, I peered out the window. A car rolled by, the driver looking straight ahead. A light clicked on in the front room window across the street. Lewis Timmons stared over at our house for a moment before raking his gaze along the street. His curtains were pulled shut a moment later.
The breath entering my lungs felt cleansing, and I realized I’d been holding my breath.
My mother stood over the stove in the kitchen, stirring something in a pot. She glanced up when we walked in before going back to it. “Did you fix everything?”
Veronica looked at me with her eyebrows raised. Apparently I would be spearheading this conversation with my mother. And while that had initially been the plan…now here I was. Theory was much better than reality when it came to this type of thing.
“We probably missed a couple. I thought we’d best head back.” I drifted toward the counter, suddenly conscious of my awkward body posture. I had the sinking feeling of a kid who’d broken a window with a baseball.
“Oh?” My mother stirred for all she was worth, clearly making gravy. “I haven’t known a little rain to distract you two from grammar-policing the neighborhood.”
While my mother was a decent cook, I certainly didn’t get my natural affinity for it from her. I grabbed the spoon from her and took over. “It wasn’t the rain.”
She pulled open the fridge and started digging through. “Do you want a salad tonight? Veronica, are you staying? What about a salad?”
“Yes, I will, and that’s fine,” Veronica said, her eyes still on me.
“Great. You can make it.” My mother deposited a bundle of green items on the counter.
“Awesome,” Veronica mumbled dryly.
My mother poured herself a glass of water before leaning against the counter, watching me work. “What happened? Was it that troublemaker Billy Timmons? Because I will march over there right now and drag that little creep out of his house by the ear. I will not abide his taunting you.”
“He sucks,” Veronica said, clearly still angry she’d been robbed of her comeback. “But he’s not worth Lewis calling the cops on you again.”
“You think they’ll get anything on me? They won’t. It’ll be their word against ours, and you know Peg never gets involved. The police will have nothing incriminating. In the meantime, he’ll get a red ear, and by George, you will get an apology. Have I ever failed to deliver?”
I took a deep breath, glancing out the large window over the sink at the darkening backyard beyond. Shadowy shapes and blotches shook and swung in the wind.
“Have I?” she pushed.
“The time you marched onto the quad at lunchtime was my favorite,” Veronica said, chopping lettuce. “He was so shocked when you picked him up by the scruff of his neck and dragged him over to Penny. I died laughing.” She stopped what she was doing and chuckled. “Then you ate his sandwich!”
“Peg makes a mean sandwich.” My mother nodded. “As the head of this household, it is my job to protect my daughter. And I will do so, even from little jerks like that Billy Timmons.”
I slowed in my stirring, those words slamming into me. I’d heard them all my life. My father had always said he’d protect his family at all costs, and my mother had proudly taken up the mantle. I’d always figured it was just something all parents said, but now, after the last couple of days, they had a different ring to them. They merged with the feeling of safety emanating from the house, countering the threat that I might have imagined outside.
“It’s not Billy,” I said, lowering the heat on the stove before checking the roast. I immediately pulled it out of the oven. “It’s my temperamental third eye. That, or my imagination.”
“You do have a pretty extreme imagination,” Veronica said, popping a square of cheese into her mouth.
“Your temperamental third eye?” My mother’s gaze sharpened. Again, that was something I’d grown up with. The focused gaze she leveled at me when I said certain things. I’d always ignored it, but now…
I set the roast to rest, wondering how much to tell her. Certainly not about the New Orleans trip, but something told me I’d better spill about the stranger. At least parts of it, like his visit to my booth and seeing him standing in the street with a ball of black between his palms.
No need to mention running over the dead people—a girl had to have some secrets, after all.
Veronica would hear everything, too, of course, but I’d promised her the truth anyway. And this wouldn’t be the first time she heard me talk about magic.
I opened my mouth and the words just started to spill out. When I finally finished, my mother stood at the sink with her apron stretched over her front and a frown stretched over her face. Silence filled the kitchen, only interrupted by the patter of raindrops outside.
“And you thought you saw someone around this neighborhood?” she finally said, her gaze boring into me.
I shrugged, uncomfortable. I’d hoped she would laugh this off, as she us
ually did when it came to my temperamental third eye. That was how it had gotten its name, after all. But this time, she was as serious as the grave.
“I thought I saw movement, or someone darting out of sight,” I said. “And the street was unnaturally quiet.”
“That’s true.” Veronica nodded as she popped another piece of cheese into her mouth. “The street was quieter than normal. Could’ve just been the weather.”
“Did anyone see you try to gun down the man in the street?” my mother asked. The rest of her body stayed frozen. Each word dripped with an anxiety I’d never heard from her before.
Fear unfurled in my stomach. The hair stood up along my arms. “I—I don’t think so.”
Her gaze stayed rooted to mine. “What aren’t you telling me, Penelope Bristol?”
Veronica slowed in her chewing and turned toward me, her eyes wide.
Without meaning to, I blurted out the part about getting out of the car and seeing the men fighting each other with what I believed to be magic.
My mother’s whole body sagged. Worry clouded her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me last night?”
“I…I sound crazy. It sounds crazy. And someone…someone died. I think. Maybe a few people.” I clamped my mouth shut, determined not to spill anymore.
“You went by there this morning?” she asked.
“Yes. There wasn’t even a trace. But this wasn’t my imagination. It sounds crazy, but it wasn’t—”
Suddenly my mother was striding from the room, her back straight and fire in her eyes. “They will not take my daughter. Not while I walk this earth or beyond. I will be damned if those vultures come for my flesh and blood.”
“Did she just swear?” Veronica asked with cheese still in her mouth, the need to chew apparently forgotten. “What’s happening?”
I shook my head lamely, at a complete loss.
A moment later, my mother strode back in with a worn leather book. She set it on the table with a solid thunk. “They won’t be able to come in here without studying the ward first. Your father was the best around, and all these years, I’ve continuously fed his spell. Those goons will head back to their books, you mark my words. We have some time to figure out how to get you out, Penny. A couple days, maybe. But Veronica’s house will need some protection, too. They’ve seen you two together. She’s not safe. She could be used as bait.” Her brow furrowed as she opened the book. The musty smell of old paper greeted me. The words lining the pages called to me. “I’m not a great mage, but I’m good enough to buy us some time.”
