Midlife Strife: A Paranormal Women's fiction Novel (Bells and Spells - Book 1)

by M. L. Briers

  “Oh, Claudia,” Marilyn scolded her, shifting in her seat to fix her with a steely gaze.

  “Stop!” Claudia said, holding up her hand. “You are not my mother, no lectures, and let’s just revisit the eighties and talk like…”

  “Teenagers?” Marilyn turned her nose up at the idea.

  “Goddess, no, boys, clothes, and bands – ugh!”

  “Don’t forget our hair,” Marilyn said, wagging her witching finger at her.

  “I won’t forget your hair,” Claudia tossed back and got a long hard look for her trouble.

  “I resent the implication that I was the only one with bad taste,” Marilyn said and snorted a chuckle. “Your baby pink hair dye experiment was something to behold – you looked like you’d tipped a bottle of Pepto-Bismal over your head.”

  “You scoff, but I see it’s come back into fashion,” Claudia said.

  “And they think it’s a new thing,” Marilyn chuckled. “Like they invented hair dye and bad attitudes…”

  “Getting drunk…”

  “Fighting the system…”

  “Having sex…”

  “Ugh! Don’t get me started on having sex,” Marilyn said and dove into her glass like she was dying of thirst.

  “Been that long?”

  “The well is dry,” Marilyn tossed back.

  “Don’t they have a cream for that – and an app for the other?” Claudia teased her. Marilyn looked decided guilty and dove back into the booze. Claudia gave her a long hard stare and snorted in amusement. “Please tell me you are not on a dating app?”

  Marilyn shrugged. “It’s a small town,” she admitted.

  “All the more reason to move, not trust the inter-web to hook you up with someone who isn’t a serial killer, a knuckle dragger, a mouth-breather, or an accountant,” Claudia said, looking horrified. “What were you thinking?”

  Marilyn shrugged. “I don’t know – sex?”

  “With a human male – not a mouth breather,” Claudia said.

  “Well, we can’t all tour the world with gophers…”

  “Golfers…”

  “Those too,” Marilyn offered back. The corners of her lips twitched, and she couldn’t help but smile, Claudia smiled, and those smiles turned into giggles, and the giggles turned into laughter until they didn’t remember what they’d said that was so funny.

  “Ah, alcohol, a wonderful thing,” Claudia said, chuckling.

  “Decidedly better than pink hair and super hold hair gel,” Marilyn said, toasting her friend again before she realised she had an empty glass. “More,” she said and held it out for a refill.

  “Lush,” Claudia said, snatching the glass and pushing up.

  “Back to the eighties,” Marilyn said, embracing the thought. If only people could time hop, it would be worth its weight in gold.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ~

  Lottie pulled the soft blanket around her shoulders as she stood looking out of the big bay window at the back of the summer house and knew that rock within her stomach wasn’t going anywhere until Louann became rational once more if she ever had been to start with. She dearly loved her old friend, but the woman could be bat-shit crazy when she felt the need.

  She just hoped that this wasn’t one of those times.

  “Right,” Louann said with a determined tone that made Lottie turn to look at her.

  Lottie couldn’t help but spit out a chuckle; it could have been too much wine to accompany the perfect meal that Marilyn has served, or it could have been the fact that her friend looked like a hedge witch from the sixties with a long caftan style dress that looked like a tent on Louann’s trim frame.

  In one hand; Louann held an outdoor lamp and in the other a ceremonial Athame. Around her neck were two necklaces; one was the stone of Athena with a beautiful cut Lapis Lazuli; it was a piece that Lottie had always admired. The other Louann used as her channel for when she was performing what she called serious spells; a red agate Rune in honour of Freya.

  Lottie covered her smile with both hands and part of the blanket in her fist when Louann scowled at her, but she couldn’t bite back the occasional snigger. She’d give her kudos for one thing; it looked like Louann had all her bases covered.

  “What?” Louann demanded with a shrug and a quick sweeping look down at her outfit.

  “I’m just surprised there is no pitchfork and flaming torches,” Lottie teased, and Louann prickled.

  “I have a lamp,” she said in her defence.

  “Did somebody start a war that I didn’t get the memo about?” Lottie hated to ask because, in Louann’s mind, the answer was probably yes. Her friend was fast becoming ‘that crazy old lady’ and she needed to be stopped in her tracks before she settled in her ways.

  “Now, don’t start with me, Lottie, you know what needs to happen,” Louann scolded her.

  “A fashion makeover by the looks of things,” Lottie shot back, removing just one hand from in front of her mouth but keeping the other firmly in place for the giggles that wouldn’t stop. She didn’t want to hurt her friend’s feeling, but the woman had serious issues.

  Louann’s eyebrows reached for her hairline as she looked anywhere but at her friend. “Well, it’s nice to see you are taking this latest development seriously…”

  “Oh, Louann,” Lottie scolded her with a kindly look of disbelief. “The sky isn’t falling…”

  “Yet,” Louann said, waving the Athame around in the air like it was a sword and she had a beast to slay.

  “Or maybe never,” Lottie argued. “He does still own the property out by the old mill…”

  “I told you we should have burned that place down,” Louann reminded her, pointing the dagger at her friend.

  “Don’t point that thing at me in case it’s loaded,” Lottie scolded her. “And yes, yes you did say that at the time, and it still sounds bat-shit crazy to this day,” she said and spluttered another chuckle. “Burn it down, and what? Then he might have decided to camp out on your back porch.”

  Louann’s gaze snapped to the backdoor, and Lottie spat out another laugh. “I’m sure he was at Marilyn’s tonight, I’m sure she saw him, and I’m sure that’s why…”

  “And what, Lou? She’s old enough to run her own life…”

  “Ruin her life,” Louann shot back. “And what’s a mother for if not to…”

  “Control her children’s lives?”

  Louann cocked her head to one side, pushed out her right hip, pressed her lips together, and offered her friend a cold hard stare. Then she poked the air with the Athame. “I did not go through forty-eight hours of labour, snotty noses, scraped knees, school, teenage angst and grandmother-hood just to butt out now.”

  Lottie dropped her hand from her mouth and offered her friend a teasing smile. “At some point, you have to let go of the baby bird so it can fly. Marilyn is fifty-two; I think it’s time.”

  “It’s not time, Lottie, time would be the point where they drop my cold dead body into a grave,” Louann informed her.

  “Is that a promise that you’re not going to try your damndest to meddle from the afterlife?” Louann opened her mouth, pointed the Atheme at her friend, narrowed her eyes, and the cogs were ticking over in her mind, but she didn’t say anything. “Thought not.”

  “She’s my daughter…”

  “And she’s done a pretty good job of raising two wonderful children, despite a lowlife husband and a mother that dresses like she’s going to Woodstock, and regularly threatens her sanity,” Lottie shot back. “Sit down, put your war Rune on the side, and have a drink like a normal person, Louann.”

  “I’m not a normal person…”

  “You said it, I didn’t,” Lottie shot back.

  Louann ignored her. “I’m a witch and a witch…”

  “Takes care of her own, yes, I know. I heard that one the last time you went on a war footing, and we ran a vampire out of town,” Lottie said, walking to the cream sofa with the overstuffed cushions
and slumped down into the soft seat with a weary sigh. “Don’t you ever wonder what might have happened if we didn’t – considering what happened after we did?”

  Louann looked pensive, then she scowled and waved the Atheme in the air. “No, we did the right thing.”

  “Says you…”

  “Says any rational witch…”

  “Which you’re not right now…”

  “Charlotte Carmichael!”

  “Oh, I get the full name treatment,” Lottie rolled her eyes and brushed the soft fabric of the blanket down her thigh.

  “I didn’t use your middle name…”

  “Nor shall you,” Lottie warned her with a look that could freeze a rabbit in place.

  “Gertrude…”

  Lottie sucked in a harsh breath, and looked anywhere but at Louann. She was trying to hold onto the rush of annoyance that went through her. “Ah, the hell with it,” she said and snapped her fingers.

  Louann felt the magical slap to her backside like a wet towel whipped against bare skin and jumped in place with a small yelp. “That was uncalled for, you old…”

  “Ah, ageist,” Lottie warned her with a wicked glint in her eyes and a smug smirk.

  “Well, I do not conform to this society’s ridiculous politically correct doctrine. I can police myself and my language, and take a look in the mirror, you old boot, the years have caught up with you,” Louann said, trying to place her hands on her hips but finding it difficult with the lamp and the Atheme.

  “Right back at you, you aren’t exactly in the first blush of youth, and what is this…” She motioned to her friend’s outfit. “Who are you supposed to be – Grandma, the vampire slayer?”

  Louann prickled some more. “Take that back!”

  “Not on your rapidly ageing life,” Lottie shot back.

  “Well,” Louann said, but said no more as turned on her sensible heels. She stomped off to her bedroom and slammed the door behind her.

  Lottie groaned, rolled her eyes, and then chuckled. At least their bickering had stopped Louann from racing off into the night with a lot of witchy intentions and not an iota of a plan.

  Witching on the hoof was a dangerous endeavour and should never be performed unless absolutely necessary, and certainly not after consuming a large amount of wine.

  Louann’s seat of her pants ideas was biting off more than she could chew with her new dentures, and she wouldn’t allow her friend to walk blindly into what could be a dangerous situation.

  She resolved to sleep with one eye open just in case Louann got any ideas about sneaking out of the house like a love-struck teenager. It would be just her luck that the warrior queen would throw a hip and she’d spend the rest of the night in the emergency room, worse still if she needed aftercare, and she’d need to move in to look after her.

  The sixties were fun; but commune living was a thing best left to the past, along with the Summer of Love. Neither of them had the energy for that anymore.

  Lottie needed her space, and not have anybody cluttering it up. She still had some life in her yet, but she was aware that she wasn’t getting any younger and chasing after a damn vampire hadn’t been on her to-do list when she’d dragged her bones out of bed that morning.

  A lovely lunch with her oldest friend, what could possibly go wrong? One overly handsome, sexy-as-hell silver fox vampire, that was what could go wrong.

  Lottie wondered if it wouldn’t be a better idea for her to go alone and challenge the vampire rather than let her friend channel Freya, do something stupid, and upset the apple cart. After all, there might be a perfectly good explanation as to why Sir-Sucks-A-lot was in town – or maybe not.

  After the witching hour with a belly full of good food and a little too much wine wasn’t the time to worry about it, she didn’t want to be up all night with indigestion. She’d do enough worrying in the morning when her head was on straight, and maybe she could figure out a plan.

  For now, sleep was calling, and Lottie wasn’t one to let that call go unanswered.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ~

  Marilyn hadn’t had a wink of sleep the whole night, well, not that she remembered anyway. She’d been up bright, and early preparing breakfast, and she’d laid out a spread that was fit for a queen – although, the queen of their family would probably moan about something.

  The sound of footsteps on the stairs made her pep up, and heaven knows she couldn’t pull the all-nighters anymore without getting her backside handed to her by about ten in the morning. Age hadn’t just crept up on her; it had body tackled her at full force the moment she’d hit fifty.

  With what she’d read online about the menopause she should expect bits of her to dry up, fall off, head south, and go on the fritz from here on in. She got that – from the frizzy grey hairs that were appearing at an alarming rate and in places she hadn’t expected, to the not-so-subtle creaks and grinding of her joints – she didn’t feel like her any more.

  Just as it had in her teens, Marilyn’s body was changing again. But the angst of blossoming breasts back then seemed like a cakewalk compared to what was happening now.

  Even her hands looked like someone else’s, she suddenly had an abundance of skin that wrinkled and moved when she brushed her fingertips over it – what was that about?

  “Good morning,” Amber said, looking as fresh as a daisy with bright, smooth, glowing skin to die for, and Marilyn felt a little pang of longing for the youth she hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye to because she didn’t notice it had been slipping away. Now she was wearing an older person bodysuit, and nodding off after a meal, only to wake with a snort, and deny to herself that she’d fallen asleep at all.

  Oh to be blissfully unaware again of what the future held for you once Mother Nature decided you were surplus to requirements in the biology pool of life.

  “Breakfast,” she said, brushing aside the little green monster of jealously that was tapping her on the shoulder like the hand of time.

  It wasn’t right to feel that way about her daughter – she should save that little monster on her shoulder for strangers that glowed with health and vitality instead. There was nothing wrong with hating on strangers, politicians did it all the time with voters, and they were no real pillars of the community.

  Amber reached for a banana and offered her mother an apologetic look. “I have to open the shop – Saturday is money in the bank day,” she said.

  “And we wouldn’t want to miss that,” Marilyn said, feeling a little down that her daughter was out there just starting her life’s journey and she was looking at sagging breasts and an empty nest.

  Then she remembered the face in the window last night and panic rose within her. “I’ll drive you,” she said, reaching for the tie at the back of her apron, and trying to remember where she’d left her car keys.

  She needed to do that pot by the front door thing that she’d read about, or get one of those remote control tags that beeped for lost keys. But then she tended to lose remote controls anyway so she’d need a remote control to find the remote control.

  Goddess, instead of being the ‘cat lady’ she’d be the remote control lady whose house beeps a lot – and she thought baby brain had been bad.

  Amber chuckled. “It’s not the school run, I have my car,” she reminded her, and Marilyn rolled her eyes and smiled.

  Damn, thwarted. “Of course you do, I just thought it might be fun to do the town run together,” Marilyn lied.

  What she wanted to say was, get in the car, young lady, and let me protect you from the evils of the world that you haven’t encountered yet – but, alas, that wasn’t to be.

  “Maybe next time, I’m running late, and I have a new witch starting today,” Amber said and headed for the door.

  Marilyn deflated, protecting her offspring wasn’t easy when they were fully grown and had left the nest. When Amber stopped and turned back, Marilyn snapped to attention with a bright and breezy smile and a curious raise of her eyebrows
. “Yes?”

  “Is something going on?” Amber asked, and noted the innocent look on her mother’s face – too innocent – too clueless, and way too bright and happy for stupid o’clock in the morning. That piqued her attention.

  “No,” Marilyn said, and even shook her head to back up her lies.

  How did one broach the subject of the big, evil vampire from the past that may or may not be back?

  Amber hesitated for a long moment; mulling that over, and Marilyn had to wonder if her daughter was going to call her on it. The façade burst, and she deflated once more. “Alright, yes,” she admitted.

  Amber bounced on the spot. “I knew it, you are far too happy for your own good this morning, and I can see you haven’t slept well…”

  “Does it show that badly?” Marilyn asked with a little bit of panic in her voice as she touched her fingertips to those horrible little baggy landslides of skin beneath her eyes that even a big dollop of moisturiser couldn’t help this morning.

  “No, you look great,” Amber said with enthusiasm, and that didn’t ring true in Marilyn’s mind. “For your age.”

  And there it was – like the swinging hammer of doom against the bell of time – for your age – ugh! How cruel is youth?

  “Thanks,” Marilyn said and frowned. “I think.” She brushed it away. “Just be careful around town for a while, okay?”

  Amber pointed the banana at her mother and twisted her head to the side as she used a version of her grandmother’s stare to pin her to the spot. “Dish it, what’s going on?”

  “A vampire,” Marilyn said and saw the way her daughter bristled with excitement.

  “In Clearview?”

  “It’s not something to be happy about,” Marilyn scolded her.

  “What isn’t?” Claudia asked from just outside the door, and both women jumped in place. Neither had heard her approach without the clip-clop of her high heels as she padded in on sock-clad feet.

  Claudia swept into the room in a nightie which clung in all the right places and left little to the imagination. Marilyn felt betrayed by Mother Nature – she’d like to look that good in the morning – hell, she’d like to look that good at any time of the day.