by Tegan Maher
Hunter looked confused. "I knew when I moved here I'd have to get used to some things, but I didn't realize it would go beyond language quirks and unhealthy levels of fried food and sugar. This place is like stepping back into the ‘60s."
I shook my head and patted him on the shoulder as I got up to refill my tea. "Like James McBride said, beneath the smiles and southern hospitality and politeness, there are a lot of guns, liquor, and secrets. Welcome to Keyhole Lake. If you're fixin' to rock the boat, I sure do hope you know how to swim."
Chapter 6
Hunter asked us a few more questions about Hank and the town, then stood to leave.
"Look Noelle, I'm really sorry I was such a jerk earlier. It's just that I have honestly never seen anything like this in my life. It's almost like I've stepped into the Twilight Zone. And I've seen some weird things since I got here, too. That doesn't help." His gaze was thoughtful and I had to wonder what weird things he was referring to. "You're one of the few people I've met who seems moderately normal."
I could barely suppress a grin as I looked around. My ghostly aunt was checking out his butt, along with my witchy bestie and little sister, and my talking donkey was snoozing on a giant dog bed by the fireplace. Yup, that's me, Miss Normal.
He looked around one more time, then cleared his throat. "If I have any more questions, I'll be in touch. And you need to stay in town, at least for a few days. No offense, but you have motive and opportunity."
Addy scowled at this and smacked him on the back of the head, her hand passing right through his skull. He shivered and looked behind him, his eyebrows drawn together.
I bit my lip to keep from smiling. "If you need me, I'm not hard to find. I'm at one of three places: here, Bobby Sue's, or Brew4U."
He nodded, then moved toward the door.
When I pushed it shut behind him, Raeann and Shelby looked at each other and giggled.
"What?"
"What do you mean, what? We caught him looking at your butt when you stood up in there," Raeann teased, shoving my shoulder.
"Yeah, because he seems like a guy who’d be attracted to women he thinks may have killed somebody," I said as I headed toward my bedroom to change out of my crusty, barbecue-and-sweat-scented clothes. I only made it about three steps before somebody knocked on the door. My first thought was that Hunter had decided to just up and arrest me and get it over with, but Shelby peered out the peephole and groaned.
"It’s Camille. Can we just pretend we didn't hear her knock?" Camille was Shelby’s caseworker from the Magical Oversight Committee, a sub-branch of the Witch’s Council meant to monitor young witches, or witches who had problems assimilating.
"I heard that.” Camille's voice was muffled but her irritation was plain. “And no, you can't. I'm not exactly the person you want to be rude to tonight, young lady."
I raised my brows. "Something you need to tell me, Sister?"
Shelby rolled her eyes but not before I caught a glimpse of guilt. As soon as she opened the door, Camille strode in like she owned the place, sucking all the joy right out of the room.
She gave me the once over, right down her nose. "I suppose you don't know what's going on ... again."
As much as her condescending tone toasted my buns, it burned even more that she was right. My cheeks flamed and I glared daggers at Shelby. "No. I worked all day and dealt with the sheriff dropping dead at my table. I was a little busy."
"While you were serving death on a plate and glasses full of sugar water to hundreds of overweight rednecks, your little sister here wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings and accidentally exposed herself to a strange mundane."
Despite what most people thought, letting somebody in on your own secret was pretty much a personal decision as long as you respected the rights of other witches to remain in the closet if they wanted.
However, that only extended so far. If you weren’t discreet and responsible or couldn’t control your magic, they took the power and the decision away from you, for your own good and the safety of both other witches and humans. It was no joke. You couldn’t just go running down a crowded beach throwing light balls instead of beach balls if you wanted to stay a functioning witch.
I pressed my lips together and pinned Shelby with my I'm-waiting look. She squirmed under the pressure, but finally gave in.
"Fine. I was down at the lake, back in the cove, and had a miserable migraine. I felt like I was going to explode, but I was afraid to try anything here because I didn’t want to accidentally blow up the barn or something. I thought if I just tried to let a little bit of magic out, there where it seemed safe, then maybe it would ease up a little." She looked at her feet.
For the first time, Camille looked less like a hangman showing up for duty. She knew how much Shelby struggled, but she couldn't just let it go. "And?"
Shelby cast quick glance at me, then looked back at her feet and mumbled, "And some boy came up behind me while I had some skipping stones suspended in mid-air, zipping them one at a time across the water." She begged us with her eyes to understand. "I didn't mean anything by it. I just wanted the headache to let up!"
"Shelby—" I started to tell her she knew better, but Camille interrupted me.
"This is the last time, Shelby. I have to take action. You exposed magic to a strange human for cripe's sake! What if he’d come ten minutes earlier when you were blowing up bigger rocks to make those skipping stones? You could be excommunicated and stripped of your powers!"
Shelby squared her shoulders and sneered as only a teenager can. "You know what? Take them. Please! They're nothing but trouble to me, anyway." The crystal fruit bowl on the entry table exploded and the lights flickered as she ran to her room and slammed the door shut behind her.
Time was suspended for the span of several heartbeats, all of us absorbing the shock of what she'd said. Being excommunicated was bad, but voluntarily surrendering your powers ... it was like cutting off a limb. Worse, even.
"She didn't mean that, Camille," I breathed, watching her face carefully. Her expression was neutral, but I could see her jaw muscle flexing.
She took a deep breath. "I know I'm hard on you, Noelle, but I’m not sure how much longer I can hold off the council." She turned to Addy. "I know you're here for them, but that’s not enough. If you still had your magic, I'd sign her off to you to train, but you don't. And Noelle is too busy trying to put food on the table to provide proper guidance, assuming she even had the experience to do so."
Rae said, "I can—"
"No, you can't," Camille said, holding up her hand before Rae even finished her thought. "No matter what you were going to say, there's nothing you can do to make this situation better."
Addy, on the other hand, was handling it as she did everything: head-on. "The council knows good and well what the circumstances are here. Their purpose—"
"We're well aware of our purpose, Adelaide!" Camille interrupted.
Addy continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Their purpose is not only to maintain order, but also to provide resources for witches in need. Shelby is about as in need as it gets."
"Are you done?" Camille asked. "Because if so, I have a proposal." She glanced from me to Addy, and even to Rae. She ran her tongue across her teeth and took a deep breath. "It's going to take all of us, but I'm willing to invest the time if you are. And if Shelby is."
We all three nodded. Addy crossed her arms. "I'm listenin'—cuz heaven knows we've run out if ideas. And she didn't mean that. Or even if she did now, she would regret it on down the road."
Camille nodded and for the first time, I saw compassion in her eyes. Wonder of wonders. In the year she'd been working with us, I'd never known her to be anything other than hard-nosed.
On that note, she said, "We have to figure out what's wrong with her, then we have to fix it and train with her every day to get her up to par."
Raeann's hackles rose and she jumped to Shelby's defense. "There's nothing wrong with her. She's
just—"
Camille held up her hand. "There is something wrong with her. She shouldn't be having these problems controlling her powers. I've been working with her for a year, when she bothers to show up for her lessons. She's erratic to the point of being dangerous—mostly because when she lets loose, she does stuff like that." She motioned toward the candy dish, or the crystal shards that remained of it. “But that was an accident. She can’t always call it up, and she certainly can’t stop it. I’ve seen this with weaker witches, but not with ones as powerful as Flynn witches. She has power in spades, but if she can't control herself we'll have to bind her, if for no other reason than to protect her from herself."
My heart ached for my little sister. I didn't get it. She'd come into her powers at eleven, an average age. They usually started manifesting at around the same time as puberty, but she hadn't grown into them. They'd never really become a part of her like they should have. Camille was right; it didn't make any sense.
I bit my lip and forged ahead. "So what do you propose?"
She waved her hand. "I think she needs to be tested."
Addy's expression was thunderous. "Over my dead body will those old termagants crawl around inside her head!"
Camille raised a brow and looked at her.
"It's an expression," Addy snapped. "You know what I mean."
"I do, actually. And I'll have you know that I am one of those termagants, as you so eloquently put it. I can do the testing myself, so it’ll be as non-invasive as I can make it."
I'd heard bad things about the so-called testing the council did, but I was getting desperate. Not only was she in danger of running afoul of them, she was miserable.
"Can we be there?"
Camille paused. "Yes. I think it may even be best if we do it here. But, depending upon what we find, the solution may not be ... palatable.” She looked between us, trying to gauge our thoughts. “If we can solve it, then we can work toward a solution. If we can't figure it out, we'll have to bind her."
Addy was pacing back and forth a few feet off the ground. "And if we say no?"
"Then I'll have no choice but to bind her anyway. The council is pushing hard for that already. I have to give them something."
Wow. There was no option at all.
Camille stood up. "Look, take tonight to think about it. Let her calm down, then discuss it with her. I'll be back tomorrow night for your decision."
The three of us remained frozen in place, consumed by worry. Camille made it to the door, but paused with her hand on the knob. "I want what's best for her too, you know," she said softly. "Things haven't been easy for her. Or for you, either, Noelle. I'm willing to help if you'll let me."
I blinked once and nodded at her as she stepped out into the night, pulling the door closed behind her.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Rae and Addy started talking at once. I was trying to keep track of what they were saying when Shelby cleared her throat behind us.
"I'm going to do it."
Addy crossed her arms. "You'll do no such thing, young lady. We'll find a way—"
Shelby held up her hand. "This is the way. We all know she's right. There's something wrong with me. Y’all think I'm lazy, or I'm just not giving it my all, but I am. Do you think I want to have headaches all the time? To not be able to do something as simple as turn on a light without worrying about blowing all the bulbs, or—almost worse yet—having nothing happen at all?" She looked from one of us to the other, her gaze tortured and imploring. "I'm a witch. I want to be able to use my gifts, but I'm not even sure what they are! If there's a chance she can figure it out, then I'm doing it."
My heart broke for her. When she put it that way, I couldn't deny she was right. "Okay, then. When Camille comes back tomorrow night, we'll arrange it. We'll all be right there with you."
I went over and pulled her into a hug.
"We'll get you straightened out, kiddo," Rae said, and Addy and I agreed. Though when I met their eyes, they were as worried as I was.
Chapter 7
I baked my way through four different batches of pastries before I felt remotely tired, then I slept like crap. Fortunately, I didn't have to work the next morning, so I managed to catch a couple of hours before I had to get up.
I’d scheduled a hair appointment a few days ago, before the fiasco with Hank. I thought about Coralee and the crew that would be waiting for me and considered canceling it. Since I was there when he bit the big one, they were going to descend on me like wolves. My hair was out of control though, and the thought of leaning back in the chair while Coralee washed it with her coconut-scented shampoo and massaged my scalp with her salon-perfect nails was too much to resist. I could just close my eyes and tune them out. Okay, that was a little optimistic, but still. Totally worth it.
I got dressed and headed toward town. It was a beautiful day; white, fluffy clouds dotted the sky and the horses were grazing in the pastures, tails swishing, as I drove down the drive and onto the main road. As I approached the crash site, I shuddered. I could still feel the bumps and hear the rocks and brush scraping the undercarriage when I went over. The feeling only lasted long enough for me to get past the site though, then the peace of the morning reclaimed me.
I was worried about Shelby, but at least now we had a plan. I didn't like it, but she was right. We didn't have any other option, and it would be fantastic if Camille could untangle whatever it was that had her magic all mangled. I wanted to believe everything was okay, but there was a seed of doubt growing in my head. What if there was more at play than teenage stubbornness or growing pains?
I made a pit stop at Brew4U to grab a coffee and drop off some of the pastries I'd made the day before. The shop was quiet; it was just Roy and one of the other old-timers passing time at the chess table.
Raeann was leaning on the counter beside Jake, a guy she'd met a local bungee-jumping event a few months back. She wasn’t usually unstable, but I was pretty sure she was a few donuts shy of a dozen for jumping off a perfectly functional bridge. A couple of years before, she’d made up a bucket list of crazy things she wanted to do, and bungee jumping was on it. I convinced her to put it last, since she wanted to do everything else before she died.
Even when she started ticking off the small stuff, I held out hope that she'd give up on the idea of wrapping a rubber band around herself and jumping off a bridge, but no such luck.
When the big day came, I went with her for moral support—and to try to talk her out of it. It was all I could do not to lock her in the car when I saw exactly how high it was. Who jumps off a bridge, or anything else that high up, willingly?
Still, she'd been talking about it for weeks, and I tried to push aside my anxiety and be excited with her. When it was actually her turn, I thought I was going to pass out. I held my breath as she stepped up on the platform, waited for them to hook her up. She closed her eyes and jumped, and I didn't breathe again until I finally saw her hit the bottom of the band and bounce back up like one of those red balls in the paddle game.
Jake had been the one to unhook her and congratulate her, and they hit it off right away, going so far as to exchange phone numbers right then and there.
She'd wanted to jump again but I'd dug in my heels. "No way am I going to watch you do that again. You've tempted fate enough for one day; we're leaving while you're in one piece. I'm pretty sure your brain musta fell out when you got jerked at the bottom, but I'll come back for it later."
I’d wrestled her away from the hot guy and the bridge and dragged her back to her car, where I stuffed her in the passenger seat. I engaged the baby locks as soon as I was in because she was gazing all goo-goo eyed at the guy—or the bridge, I’m not sure whether it was one or both—as I started the engine.
The entire drive home, she alternated between chattering about the thrill of the jump and the heat level of the guy. She’d always been a sucker for the Black-Irish look, and he had it in spades. Between his carefully mussed raven hair
and crystalline eyes, she hadn’t stood a chance.
I’d cringed inside and took the latter with a grain of salt. Raeann had the absolute worst luck with men. Her first real boyfriend, Billy Evans, had dumped her on prom night to go with the head cheerleader—whom I promptly beat the daylights out of—and it hadn't gotten any better for her. My friend was scrappy and loyal, but when it came to taking up for herself, she was a doormat, so somebody had to do it.
I’d thoroughly enjoyed yanking out handfuls of the cheerleader’s perfectly teased blond hair, and when a "costume failure" revealed just how hard her push-up bra had to work, every girl in the school grinned with glee. Of course, it was no surprise to most of the guys, except maybe Billy. I even got a good foot to the nuts in on him when he tried to break us up before I was finished with her, so I considered it a two-fer.
Aunt Addy was against fighting in general, but even she gave me a pass on that one.
Since then, Rae’d had a string of guys who looked promising until their shine wore off—and it always did, usually in some spectacular way. I held out hope for this guy though; he'd been around much longer than any of the others, with no sign of mental illness or bankruptcy, moral or financial.
He held the door open for me as I carried in boxes of goodies, then Raeann took them from me and proceeded to arrange them in the glass case beside the register.
"Good lord. How much baking did you do last night after I left? There's enough here to feed an army!"
"Well, I couldn't really sleep and figured with the competition today, you'd need extra. There won't be any desserts available outside of the pie-eating contests."
Apparently, I'd made the right decision. Before she even had them all in the case, a family of five came in and started pointing out their choices, and another group of women came in, perusing the pastries as they waited in line.
