Witchin' USA

by Amanda M. Lee

  That was so not what I was expecting. “You knew?”

  “Well, I knew what your mother told me,” Dad clarified. “I didn’t know your grandmother very well. I’d only met her a few times.”

  “She told me.”

  “What?”

  I realized I wasn’t far gone enough to admit to my father that my dead grandmother stopped by for a conversation in the middle of the night. He’d be on the first flight with a doctor in tow if I did. Things were bad enough without that.

  “Nothing,” I said hurriedly, shaking my head. “I was just talking to myself.”

  “I should be used to that.” Dad was back to being happy. “Tell me about the people you’ve met.”

  Well, one claims to be an empath, while another is a really hot sheriff who only introduced himself because a dead body washed up on my beach. He then told me that my grandmother was poisoned and that was before a naked woman decided to have a really weird conversation with me over my morning coffee. “They seem fairly normal.”

  “Really?” Dad sounded surprised. “I would’ve thought island folk were a wee bit different. That’s how your mother always made it sound.”

  Right. Mom would’ve told him stories about Moonstone Bay. What did he know? “Did Mom ever talk about Grandma’s belief that she was a witch?”

  “She did.” Dad’s voice became wary. “She said your grandmother had a very distinct belief system and that she refused to believe anything to the contrary – even if what she believed was absolute nonsense.”

  “Is that how Mom termed it or did you add the embellishments?”

  I wasn’t used to questioning my father in this manner, but I figured if I wasn’t firm he would skirt around the issue and I’d be right back where I started.

  “What’s going on, Hadley?”

  “What do you think is going on?”

  “I think you’re already homesick but don’t want to admit it,” Dad replied. “There’s no reason to stay there. I know you wanted an adventure – and to prove that you’re strong and brave – but there’s no reason to stay there when you want to come home.”

  Of course he would see things that way. “Dad, I’m not saying I’m never going to come home. Right now, though, it’s not going to happen. I’m happy here.”

  “You don’t sound happy.”

  “It’s more that I’m baffled.”

  “And what is baffling you?”

  There was no way around it. I would have to ask the obvious question. “Was Mom a witch?”

  He didn’t sound offended by the question, merely resigned. “She said she was.”

  “Did you believe her?”

  “I believed that she believed it.”

  “That wasn’t really an answer.”

  “I’m not sure how you want me to answer it, Hadley,” Dad said. “Your mother thought she was a witch. She left all that behind when we got married. She wanted to be normal – so she was.”

  “You say it like it’s a choice.”

  “Isn’t it? Your grandmother chose to believe weird things and she passed that belief system on to your mother. Your mother realized there was a much bigger world than Moonstone Bay when she left to attend college. She didn’t want to go back to the weirdness, so we built our life in the real world.”

  “And cut out May Potter.”

  “I guess, from her perspective, that would’ve been a fair conclusion,” Dad conceded. “From my perspective we were doing what was best for us. We wanted a normal life.”

  Nothing was that simple. Dad was so literal he wasn’t capable of understanding. “What about after Mom died?”

  “After your mother died I was in charge and there was no way I was going to introduce you to that … stuff.”

  “Not that.” I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “What about when May Potter contacted you after Mom died? She wanted to see me, right? Why didn’t you let her?”

  I didn’t miss the hitch in Dad’s breathing. For the first time he was truly uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation. “Who told you that?”

  My dead grandmother. Wait, I couldn’t admit that. “She wrote it in her diary.”

  “Well, she did contact me and wanted to see you,” Dad confirmed, choosing his words carefully. “You were about seven at the time. I said you were too young … and I stand by that. She tried again when you were fourteen, but I still thought you were too young.”

  “What about when I was an adult?”

  “She called and wanted your number, but I didn’t think it was a good idea to give to her.”

  That’s what I was afraid of. Anger coursed through me as I fought to rein in my fury. “Why would you do that? I was an adult. I should have been able to make my own decisions.”

  “You might’ve been an adult, Hadley, but you’ll always be my child,” Dad argued. “I loved your mother, but I’m not going to lie. She did some strange things. I was young enough not to see her quirks for what they were.”

  “And what were they?”

  “Mental illness.”

  The simple answer was like a punch in the stomach. “I see.”

  “Hadley, I loved your mother and I always will,” Dad said. “I’m not sorry I kept May Potter out of your life. The woman was unbalanced. I didn’t want to tell you about her at all, but I thought that taking your inheritance away from you was somehow unfair.”

  I knew better than that. “No, you realized that if anyone ever found out you could lose your law license,” I corrected, bitterness coming out to play. “I’m not an idiot. I know how it works.”

  “That’s neither here nor there.”

  “Oh, but it is.” I shook my head in an effort to regain control of my emotions. I was about to fly off the handle, and that wouldn’t be good for anyone. “I know why you did it. But it doesn’t matter now.”

  “Hadley, come home.”

  I made up my mind on the spot, even though part of me vehemently argued against it. “I am home. I’ll call you in a few days and we’ll talk again. I need some time to … absorb … all of this.”

  “Hadley!”

  I didn’t wait to listen to the rest of his excuses. I ended the call and slid the phone in my pocket, briefly pressing my eyes shut before my emotions settled enough to allow me to start moving again.

  After that I walked.

  And walked.

  And walked.

  DARKNESS CREPT up on me and before I realized it I’d walked away most of the day. I was angry with myself, not just for losing an entire day’s worth of work but also for being afraid to return to my own home.

  It was my home now. Whether it would be a month from now was anyone’s guess, but for now it was mine.

  I was turned around a bit, although I could see the lighthouse in the sky and knew which way to point myself. After walking another block and turning onto another side street I began recognizing some of the landmarks. The one that caught my attention was the ridiculously tall cemetery wall.

  I knew it was a mistake to head in that direction, especially because almost all traces of light had fled the sky. That didn’t stop me. The cemetery was a curiosity, after all. Despite the fact that everyone in Moonstone Bay showed signs of clinical delusions on a grand scale, I couldn’t help but believe that the cemetery warnings were part of the show. If they branded themselves as a paranormal destination – I mean, who does that? – the cemetery threats had to be part of it.

  That was the only thing that made sense, right?

  Right?

  The cemetery gate was chained, a huge padlock holding it in place. That didn’t stop me from yanking on it. I knew it wouldn’t give, but I figured I was due for a shot of luck. I didn’t get it, but I did notice that the gate creaked open and allowed a small bit of space between the two doors. Thanks to the chain it wasn’t enough of a gap for me to slip inside, but if I laid on the ground and peered through the opening I could see inside.

  It looked like a normal cemetery. Some of the t
ombstones were ornate and somewhat garish, but it was merely a cemetery. It was quiet, peaceful and … huh, is something moving around in there?

  I squinted to get a better look, but the hint of movement I swore I saw only seconds before was gone. I edged closer and looked harder, tilting my head to the side. I heard the obvious sounds of groaning.

  “What the … ?”

  It seemed like I was asking that exact question every five minutes since landing, but there was a very obvious reason. In fact … yup, there were people in the cemetery. They were shuffling and moaning. They appeared to be multiplying, too. Where were they coming from?

  I jerked back when a gray face appeared in the opening, the creature – which looked humanoid – letting loose an unearthly screech in my face. I scrambled back when a hand snaked through the opening, the moans increasing. I didn’t stop until I smacked into something hard, my heart jolting as I leaned my head back and looked up.

  There he stood. Galen Blackwood. His hands were on his hips and there was a very obvious scowl on his lips.

  “Oh, hey.” I found my voice, but just barely. “I got lost on my way home.”

  “I see that.” Galen’s tone was firm as he leaned over and grabbed beneath my armpits. He tugged me to a standing position, dusting off my rear end before realizing that probably was a bit invasive. “Sorry.”

  It was dark, but I swear I could almost see his cheeks flushing with color.

  “Don’t mention it,” I gritted out, flicking my eyes to the cemetery gate when the chain rattled. “Did you know you have zombies in the cemetery?” It was an absolutely stupid question, but I could think of no other word to describe the creatures locked inside.

  “I’m well aware,” Galen said. “Five years ago the Day of the Dead party got out of hand and someone cast a spell, so they rise every night. There’s nothing we can do about it, mostly because we have no idea who cast the spell or why.”

  “A spell, huh?” Of course it was a spell. “There’s been a lot of talk about spells today.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Galen’s expression was hard to read, but I was fairly certain he was trying to be sympathetic. “Lilac called because she was worried about you. She wanted me to check, but you weren’t home.”

  “I decided to take a walk.”

  “By yourself? No one has seen you since this afternoon.”

  “I didn’t realize I needed a babysitter.” I folded my arms over my chest. “By the way, I don’t need a babysitter. I’m just … getting used to things.”

  “It’s a lot to get used to.”

  “Oh, no.” I curled my lip into a haughty sneer. “Most communities have zombies locked in their cemeteries.”

  Galen shrugged. “The zombies aren’t a problem. I mean, they were a problem that first night when they were running all over, but we rounded them up and had the problem fixed after that.”

  “So you just live with zombies wandering around the island?”

  “They don’t wander around. We locked them in the cemetery. It’s fine.”

  “Why not chop off their heads or shoot them or something so they don’t rise again? That’s what they do on television and in movies.”

  “That hardly seems fair,” Galen countered. “Why destroy them when incarceration works just as well?”

  “I … don’t … know.” That was a fair question. “I’m guessing you’re against the death penalty, huh?”

  “Actually I’m for the death penalty under the right circumstances,” Galen clarified. “As for this … these aren’t the right circumstances. We’re still hoping to reverse the spell one day. We don’t want to destroy the bodies because they were loved ones of many Moonstone Bay residents.”

  “I never considered that.” I rubbed my chin as the zombie astonishment wore off. “So zombies are real.”

  “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” Galen was contrite. “We wanted to ease you into things.”

  “Yeah. You had a meeting and everything. Lilac told me.”

  “We didn’t want to frighten you, but there was a lot you needed to be aware of,” Galen supplied. “There still is. You’re on the verge of being overwhelmed. But we need to talk.”

  What could he possibly want to talk about now? “If you tell me mummies are real, too, I’ll be on the next flight out of here.”

  “You only have to worry about mummies in arid climates. They deteriorate in high humidity.”

  Great. That made things so much better. “I need to go home and … drink or something.”

  Galen extended his arm and pointed toward the sidewalk. “I’ll walk you back.”

  “I can find my own way.”

  “I said we needed to talk.”

  Well, the hits just keep on coming. “Oh, well, by all means … you should definitely lead the way.”

  9

  Nine

  “Nice night, huh?”

  Galen dropped the bomb about us needing to talk and then immediately zipped his lips as we trudged in the direction of the lighthouse. He seemed to know where we were going – which side streets to take to cut down on our trek – but otherwise he was nothing but a big, uncomfortable presence walking to my right.

  “Yes, it’s lovely,” I drawled. “It’s a beautiful night to discover zombies in the cemetery.”

  “It’s always a nice night for that.”

  I slid a sidelong look in Galen’s direction and found him grinning. “You have an odd sense of humor.”

  “You’re not the first person to say so.” Galen’s smile ebbed as he stared up at the sky. “You’ve had a busy day. I’m guessing you have some questions.”

  “I do have questions,” I confirmed. “I’m not sure you can answer them. You answered the obvious zombie question, which is nice, but I doubt you have any particular knowledge on shark shifters and witches.”

  “I’m knowledgeable on both. Which one are you more concerned about?”

  “Just a hint, it’s not shark shifters.”

  “That’s good. They’re like unicorns. The odds of ever seeing one are slim. I keep hoping I will one day because Jaws is the best movie ever, but it hasn’t happened yet.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Jaws wasn’t a real shark.”

  “If that’s your story.”

  Wait … no way. “Are you saying that the Jaws shark was really a shifter?”

  “Why else do you think it was so strong?”

  “It was a movie.”

  “Some movies are autobiographical.”

  “I think you’re suggesting that Steven Spielberg is a shark shifter. Also, that movie was a book first.”

  “I have no proof of that, but there are always rumors regarding Hollywood folks.”

  Oh, now he was just messing with me. “I’m really not obsessed with shark shifters. It’s just something that keeps surfacing.”

  “You brought it up.”

  I bit back a sigh. “Fine. It’s something I accidentally keep bringing up.”

  “Which means the witch part is what has you walking in unbearable heat for an entire day,” Galen noted. “I thought you knew right up until the moment you said you’d never met May and your mother died while giving birth. That’s when I realized you didn’t know. I didn’t know what to say to you.”

  “So you didn’t say anything.”

  “Would you have preferred that I blurt it out? I’m not great with the soothing.”

  “You don’t seem terrible at it,” I countered. “As for the witch stuff … I don’t believe it’s true. Or, well, I don’t believe it’s true for me. If it is a thing – and I’m not saying it is, just for the record – I believe it skipped me.”

  Galen arched a dubious eyebrow. “I see. Why do you believe that?”

  “Witches have magic, right?”

  “Yes. If they’re born into the craft, they have magic.”

  “Well, I don’t. That means I’m not a witch. My genes must be faulty.”

  “Uh-huh.” Galen didn’t
sound convinced. “Didn’t you explode a glass earlier today using nothing but the power of your mind?”

  That was the most ludicrous question I’d ever heard. “No. Lilac caught me off guard when she said something and I squeezed the glass so hard it broke.”

  “And that’s how you got the scratch on your cheek, right?” Galen slid a finger over to swipe at the mark. It didn’t hurt and I’d almost forgotten about it. “So, if I’m understanding things correctly, you believe you can turn into the Hulk, but being a witch is out of the question. Am I close?”

  The Hulk? He had to be joking. “The Hulk is not real. Wait … are you going to tell me he’s a shifter?”

  “It’s not out of the realm of possibility, but I don’t believe so,” Galen replied. “That’s not what I’m getting at. You seem to think you suddenly found the strength to break a glass with an errant squeeze, yet being a witch is unbelievable.”

  “It is.”

  “I’ll bet you thought zombies weren’t real until tonight, too.”

  He wasn’t wrong, still … I couldn’t let him win the argument. That’s not how I roll. “I believed in zombies before tonight. That’s how I always imagined the people who actually take time to watch the Kardashians on television manage to get through the ridiculous nature of the show.”

  “Speaking of paranormal creatures.”

  Despite myself, he managed to pique my interest. “I’m sorry, but are you serious?”

  Galen kept a straight face for an extended period of time, but finally couldn’t stop himself from cracking a smile. “I have no idea. I’m willing to bet they’re something – maybe even something evil – but I have no knowledge of that.”

  “Oh, well, that’s a relief. I thought you were going to tell me they were vampires or something.”

  “Not with how tan they are.”

  “Good point.”

  We lapsed into amiable silence again. I was the first to break it when we reached the lighthouse’s driveway. “May Potter popped up in my kitchen last night.”

  “That was quick.”