Opal Fire

by Barbra Annino

  I grabbed Cin’s hand, left Derek’s jacket near his camera bag, and rushed down the street to find Thor.

  “Hey, wait. Don’t we have a story to do?” Derek called.

  I waved behind my head. “Not me. Not tonight. Tell Parker to get someone else.”

  “You want to clue me in?” Cinnamon asked. She was out of breath as we wove our way through the crowd in the direction Thor had gone. Cinnamon’s version of exercise was pumping the gas pedal on her vintage Trans Am. “Why are we rushing away from Main Street anyway?”

  “I have to find Thor. Then I’ll explain,” I said. I peered down the alley the kid had taken. No sign of him or the dog. I knew Thor wouldn’t run away, but he would stand guard over anyone that meant to harm me. Or anyone I told him to for that matter.

  “Thor!” Cinnamon yelled.

  In two seconds the dog came prancing up to us.

  “Dammit, Cin.”

  “What?”

  “He was after something. I wanted to see if he caught it.”

  Cin tapped her foot. “Stacy, I love you like a sister, but I swear to God I am losing patience.”

  I looked at her. Geez, the girl just escaped a fire. I had no idea how much damage had been done, but at the very least she was going to lose thousands in sales while the building was repaired. Thousands I was sure she couldn’t afford.

  She was all brick and mortar on the outside with a mouth like a truck driver. The only time I ever saw her cry was when her dad, my uncle, died a few years ago. But on the inside, she was a marshmallow.

  I hugged my cousin. “Are you okay?”

  She squeezed me back and said, “Don’t forget who you’re talking to. I’m a pretty tough nut.” True. I once witnessed her single-handedly bounce three drunk bikers from her bar without breaking a nail. Or a sweat.

  Thor pawed at my knee and I broke from Cin. “Hey, buddy.” A shred of clothing dangled from his jaw.

  I cupped my hand and said, “Drop.”

  Thor deposited what appeared to be the back pocket of a pair of Levi’s. I knuckled his ear and said, “Good boy, Thor.” He sat down, tongue draped over the side of his jaw, proud as a peacock.

  “Stacy, what did you do?” asked Cin.

  “Nothing.” I shook my head.

  “Stace...” Cin crossed her arms.

  Even before I said it out loud I knew it would sound juvenile and stupid. But maybe Cin would understand since she’s an expert on impulsive behavior.

  I took a deep breath. “There was a high school kid outside in the crowd and when he saw me he took off like a bullet. It seemed strange so I chased him. But then Derek got in the way so my boy, Thor, kept up the pursuit.” I fingered the patch and held it up, smiling. “Brought me a souvenir, too.” I winked at Thor.

  Thor roared then barked and did a little happy dance. Cin glared at him and he stopped short, then lowered his head in a pout.

  “Stacy, all high school kids run when they see a Geraghty Girl.”

  “I am not a Geraghty Girl. I’m a Justice woman.”

  Cin waved her hand. “Doesn’t matter, you’ve got the bloodline, the hair, the cape.”

  “Hey, the cape was a gift and my hair is more blonde than red. Besides you have the bloodline too.” I shivered again and Cin handed over her jacket. “Thanks,” I said and stuffed my arms through the sleeves.

  Cin sighed. “Look, you haven’t been back that long, so I’ll clue you in on a little secret. Kids are petrified of witches. Sure they’ll tease, play jokes, tell stories, but when it comes down to it, they buy into all that flying on a broom shit and sacrificing small rodents nonsense. It’s a game.”

  I could not believe my ears. She was calling me one of them! I prided myself on not being one of them. Hey, you can’t choose your family. Just because Birdie and the aunts believed in abracadabra, hocus-pocus, didn’t mean I did.

  “I am not a witch.” I stuffed the torn pocket in my jeans and glared at Cin.

  She raised one eyebrow. “Are you or are you not practicing magic?”

  “Only to keep Birdie off my back, you know that. She forces me to join her little hex circle whenever the mood strikes. Or the sun is in Venus or a spider crawls down her chimney, or whatever the hell else sets her in motion.” I looked at Cinnamon. “Come to think of it, ever since I was a kid, she’s had it in her head I was the one to be her protégé. Just be lucky it’s not you.”

  “Ah,” Cinnamon said in a phony European accent, “but you are the sensitive one, dear cousin.”

  “Sensitive to what?” I asked.

  “I couldn’t tell ya.”

  I laughed. “Come on. Let’s go find Leo and Tony.”

  Thor saddled beside us and Cin slung an arm around my shoulder as we strolled down the middle of the street, back towards the Black Opal.

  After a moment, Cinnamon said, “It must just be your destiny, Ms. Justice Seeker.” That was a term Birdie had pinned on me. Cin thought it was hilarious to repeat it and watch my skin crawl.

  “Shut up,” I said. Then I cocked my head and asked, “Why don’t they run from you? The kids, I mean.”

  Cin smiled, still looking ahead. “Oh, they do. Just for different reasons.”

  It was true what Cin had said. I did pick up a wand again since I had moved back to town a few months ago, but only to appease my grandmother. Birdie was named after the great Goddess Brighid of Ireland. The name means “exalted one” and if she had purchased the title at Witches-R-Us, she couldn’t have chosen a better one.

  Birdie has a book of theology that holds my maternal family history, which spans back to an ancient Celtic tribe from Kildare. The book is filled with laws, spells, symbols, beliefs, and even predictions for future generations.

  Which is where I came in. My great-grandmother had scribbled something about a third generation child of the New World in the Blessed Book, blah, blah, blah and poof! I was now dubbed, the Seeker of Justice. I pointed out that it was just a coincidence, since that happened to be my father’s last name, but Birdie didn’t buy it. I was the one, she was sure of it. So while Cinnamon was off catching fireflies, skateboarding and flashing crossing guards, I was learning about the properties of herbs, crystal power and how to position a scrying mirror beneath the full moon.

  Not that it did me any freaking good.

  The scene back near the bar wasn’t any less hectic than when we left. The fire was still smoldering, an eerie orange glow illuminated the building. The brick seemed to pulsate beneath the force of the water pressure, like the walls were breathing a sigh of relief. We just stood there for a moment, mesmerized, and I still had that feeling that I was forgetting something.

  “Damn shame,” I heard behind me. I turned to see Mr. Huckleberry puffing away on a stogie.

  Mr. Huckleberry was a longtime family friend. He used to play poker with Cin’s dad and he sold Cinnamon the bar when he retired a few years ago.

  “Hi Mr. Huckleberry,” I said.

  “Hey Huck,” said Cinnamon.

  He nodded towards us. “Girls. You okay?” He looked like Santa Claus with his white beard and protruding belly.

  “Hm-hm,” we said.

  “Huck,” said Cin, “I’m so sorry this happened. I know how much you love the place.”

  “Sweetheart, these things happen.” He puffed the cigar, the burning tobacco mirroring the flame from the fire. “Old buildings with old wiring plus a bunch of numb nuts that don’t know their ass from a hole in the ground inspecting them. Bound to be trouble sooner or later.” He patted Cin on the back. “You take care, sweetheart.”

  Mr. Huckleberry ambled away and Gus Dorsey came up to us then. Gus had a Basset hound face and floppy ears that were too big for his frame. I was sure he had yet to shop in the men’s department.

  “Hey, Stacy. Hi Cinnamon. You okay? Can I get you something? You cold? You thirsty or something?” This was all directed at Cinnamon, whom Gus has been in love with forever. He hadn’t quite grasped the fact that she
was back with her ex-husband and even if she weren’t, he was a used Volvo kind of guy where Cinnamon was a muscle car woman.

  “Gus, get Stacy a blanket, would you?” Cin said.

  “Sure, sure. Oh, I almost forgot. Stacy, the chief wants to talk to you right away,” Gus said and scampered off.

  “I feel another lecture coming on,” I mumbled. I returned Cin’s coat and rubbed my arms.

  Derek was talking to a fireman and snapping photos a few yards away. He and Iris were jotting down notes. I guess Parker didn’t send anyone else to the scene. Odd.

  I turned to Cin to tell her I was going to find Leo and that I’d meet up with her later, but before I could say a word, a meaty hand smacked her upside the head.

  “Ow, Mama!” Cin cried. Aunt Angelica. Famous for her cannolis and right hook.

  Thor ducked behind my legs.

  “This is what I get, hah? I have to hear ‘bout a fire on the radio? Not from my daughter. My flesh and blood. I raised you better!” She lifted her other hand and realized she was still holding a spatula. She calculated if that would border on abuse, then tried to swing it anyway before Tony caught the interception.

  “Mama, Angelica, please. Cinnamon has been through enough,” he said. He wasn’t as tall as her, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in charm and personality.

  Angelica flashed Tony a look of betrayal, then softened. “Oh my baby!” She pulled Cinnamon to her huge chest and sobbed. Cin flailed her arms.

  “Mama, stop.”

  “Hi, Auntie,” I said, hoping to deflect some of the heat from Cin.

  Angelica faced me, still wearing her bakery apron smeared with frosting and sprinkles, her dark hair streaked with flour. Thor snaked around and stole a lick from the spatula Tony was holding. I said a little prayer for her not to notice.

  “Oh, Stacy, my beautiful niece.” She pulled me in for a bear hug, then stood back and said, “What’s wrong with you, hah? That one,” she pointed to Cin, “that one I know is trouble. But you a good girl. You should call when things happen, hah?”

  I nodded. “But the bakery is only a block away.”

  Angelica leaned forward and waved her finger. “You getting smart?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “You come for dinner tomorrow, hah?” she said.

  “I will.”

  In the distance, I spotted three women who seemed to claim the street as their own, walking in tandem. Confidence radiated from them like the brilliant colors of the bright capes they wore. One red, one yellow, one green. The Geraghty Girls.

  Shit.

  I whirled around to Cinnamon. “What are they doing here dressed like that?”

  “Don’t you remember what day it is?” Cin whispered.

  I flipped through my mental calendar and drew a blank. “Thursday.”

  Cin rolled her eyes at me. “Imbolc.”

  Double shit. I slapped my forehead. In all the excitement, the holiday slipped away from me.

  The pagan calendar consists of eight major celebrations. Imbolc occurs between the Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox. It’s one of the three Celtic feasts of fire and in Ireland it is known as Brighid’s Day.

  In Amethyst, that translates to Birdie’s Day.

  “What, they figured there’s already a fire, so let’s have the ceremony here?”

  “Hey, you try telling them what they can and cannot do,” said Cinnamon.

  The crowd was thinning out, giving Birdie and the aunts space.

  “Stacy, I have to go find my insurance papers and give my agent a call. I’m sure he’ll want to assess the damage right away. Maybe it isn’t so bad,” she said, but her face showed that she thought it was bad. “I’ll call you when I’m done, okay?” She kissed me on the cheek and she, Tony, and aunt Angelica headed in the opposite direction, towards the bakery.

  “Okay,” I said. But what I meant was, thanks for feeding me to the wolves.

  As I watched the Geraghty Girls approach, Gus draped a blanket over me and said, “Hey, Stacy, no kidding, you need to come with me.”

  “Not now, Gus,” I hissed.

  They drifted closer. Streetlamps shined on each strand of red hair that poked through their hoods, the smoke creating a billowy backdrop. I felt like I was about to become the first victim in a Wes Craven film.

  “Cripes, Stacy, please. He gets real mad when I don’t follow orders. Cinnamon already gave her account.” He said that like it would prompt me to follow suit.

  “Gus, I have no idea what happened. I was behind the bar one minute, setting up for Cin, and the next thing I knew, smoke filtered up through the back stairs and the beams were on fire. That’s all I got. Type it up.”

  I watched as Birdie paused to whisper into a fireman’s ear. He was taking a load off on the side of the truck. He bounced up immediately and started to roll the hose that lay across their path. Another fireman paused to whistle at my great aunt, Fiona. She winked back.

  Gus followed my gaze, perked up and said, “Hey, it’s your granny.” Gus and Birdie have a strange friendship that developed through her occasional bouts with the law.

  “Anastasia,” my grandmother said and clasped my hands. She refused to call me by the name on my birth certificate, which is simply, Stacy. Something about bad luck naming a female child after her father.

  “Hey, Birdie,” piped Gus, “how about another round of Dungeons and Dragons?”

  Her eyes slid towards him and she smiled as if he were a child asking for a lollipop. Then she tilted her head and raised her manicured eyebrows.

  “Oh, sure, you want to catch up. Maybe later,” Gus said and darted off.

  And then there was me.

  I waited for my grandmother to say something. Why her eyes were fierce, I didn’t know. I glanced at my great aunt Lolly, who despite being a few letters short of a full alphabet, always dressed like it was Oscar night. This occasion proved no different. Her purple silk ball gown was fluffed out by a hoop skirt and her face looked like a paint-by-numbers. Her eyebrows were shaved smooth, then penciled in. With an actual #2 pencil, it appeared. Lolly grinned and waved. She had pink lipstick all over her teeth.

  Fiona, the youngest of the three, smiled softly at me. She was one of those women you just know was a pinup girl and probably still could be.

  “Birdie, what the hell are you doing walking around town like this?” I finally asked when no one else spoke.

  Their beliefs weren’t a secret, but I mean, come on.

  Birdie straightened. “Like, what dear?”

  “Stacy, honey, we didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Fiona chimed in. “But we were preparing for the Imbolc when we heard about the fire. And then it happened.”

  Well, sure, that about cleared it up.

  “You mean you were preparing for the Imbolc when the fire happened.”

  “No, dear. Something else,” said Birdie.

  “Something else? You have got to be kidding me. Your granddaughters nearly die in a fire and there was something more important than that? Weren’t you worried about me? About Cin?”

  Birdie didn’t even bother to look surprised. “Cinnamon can care for herself and you were wearing the amethyst when you left,” said Birdie.

  “Plus your familiar was with you,” said Fiona, patting Thor on the head. He licked her hand in return. Fiona is loved by all four-legged creatures—and two-legged ones for that matter.

  “What do you mean my familiar?” I asked.

  Birdie sighed and looked at her watch. “Your witch’s familiar.”

  “I’m not even familiar with being a witch and stop calling me that!” I said.

  “A familiar is an animal totem, dear, who protects you,” said Fiona.

  Lolly barked.

  “Protects me? But he...” I glanced at Thor. “I mean, I...oh forget it.” It was true. Thor was my guardian angel of sorts.

  Thor plopped on my feet and belched.

  I wagged my head to shake out the loose scr
ews and continued. “Okay so what else happened, then?”

  Lolly yanked the blanket off me and worked a winter-white velvet cape around my shoulders. I tried to slap her hand away.

  “The bat, dear,” said Fiona.

  Birdie folded her arms and pursed her lips.

  “Big bat,” said Lolly who finished strapping me in the cape from behind.

  Fiona’s eyes grew wide and she nodded.

  A bat in February? I was speechless.

  They stood patiently waiting for me to come by some sort of epiphany.

  I had nothing.

  Fiona tilted her head towards Birdie and said quietly, “She hasn’t been practicing that long since she returned. She needs more time.”

  “Nonsense,” Birdie said. “The child learned everything she ever needed to know by the time she was thirteen.”

  It was true that Birdie had molded me from birth to practice under her wing. A point my mother fought her on constantly. But after my father died—after the dream showed me he would die and my warning didn’t save him as I had hoped, but instead put him in the path of a tractor-trailer—I had no more use for magic.

  “But, she blocked it out after,” said Fiona.

  After. She meant after my father died, after my mother left with no forwarding address. My whole life could be divided in ‘before’ and ‘after’. Before I killed my father. After my mother disappeared.

  “She was born with more talent than we could ever teach her,” said Birdie.

  “Yes, but she still has so much to learn,” Fiona pointed out.

  “Would you two quit talking about me like I’m not here!” Wait, what happened to the other one? “Where’s Lolly?” I asked.

  We all scanned the street and I spotted Thor hitched to a lamppost while Lolly tied a cape around his neck. He had the look of a man whose wife just sent him out to buy tampons.

  “Lolly!” I hissed.

  “I’ll handle it, dear.” Fiona patted my arm and rushed off. I winced from the sting.

  Birdie’s forehead creased and she lifted my cape. Her eyes locked with mine after she examined the burn.

  “We have work to do,” she said.

  CHAPTER 3