She laughed. “At least you’ve kept your sense of humor.”
“Had to, or the divorce would have broken me.”
“How on earth did you end up divorced, anyway? I mean you are a—”
I stuck a hand over her mouth. “I am a normal woman and these things happen.”
She shrugged. “Seems contradictory to your nature to give up that easily, for one. For another, seems contradictory that you would lose a man, anyway.”
I pointed at her, “I reiterate, Normal Woman.”
“Uh, huh. Just as normal as me.” She waved her fingertips and sparkles twinkled where she waved.
“Shut up.” I frowned at her.
“Okay, subject dropped. But what are you gonna do about Vance? I mean, hello, vampire.”
“He has no clue that there is anything wrong with me or anything that might happen between us.”
Her turn to raise an eyebrow.
I amended, “Well, no clue that he could possibly figure out.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him. The whole ‘Janie meets a vampire’ thing is almost as intriguing as the stake murders. What would your mother say?”
We laughed. I filled her in on the enrollment at the school, she gave me a few leads to chase on who might be after Vance on the normal end of things. Or as normal as there was, considering…
Then she left, taking sunshine and laughter with her. I stood watching her pull away and had a bad feeling I was going to have to figure this whole mess out myself if I wanted my life back.
~
I headed for Jefferson, a nearby village. Only about twelve miles from Ashtabula, Jefferson offered a courthouse, three pharmacies, two fast food places, two pizza places and a gazebo. That was about it. Oh, and about four covered bridges and the same number of bars. Apparently, if Mia were to be believed, it was also a big center of weird stuff. If she was right, it was well hidden in cute country Americana. As I waited at the stoplight in the center of town, I sat behind a tractor. You couldn’t get a whole lot more country than a tractor in the middle of town at noon.
Parking at the back of the Galley, a bar in the center of town, I could see the county jail in my rearview mirror. In front of the jail seemed an unlikely spot for a master magician to have his headquarters, then again, none of this made a hell of a lot of sense, so I would go in and ask a few questions anyway.
Past a glass door, I entered into a short hall. They’d remodeled the bar since I lived here years before and haunted places like it with Mia. The small bar and smattering of tables, which made moving around the room hard back in the day, had been replaced with a gorgeous center bar of polished oak. Some familiar things stood out at a glance—like the old timey jukebox lit up with neon near the front.
Even early in the day, a nice cross section of society already patronized the establishment. At a table, three people in buisness wear munched out of paper lined plastic baskets—likely workers from the courthouse on lunch break. At the bar, a woman and a man huddled over glasses filled with amber fluid—serious drinkers buckling down for a bender. The bartender stood polishing a glass in good barkeep fashion, while two more people filled another table in the shadows toward the front. My impression was they were having an affair. They also wore businesswear. No one looked like a magician, master or otherwise.
Then again, my mental picture of a magician tended toward “man in cape and top hat full of rabbits.” No one held a black magic wand with a white tip.
No one seemed to have an overabundance of colorful scarves.
And no one had a saw and treatened a woman in sequins.
I blew out a breath. This was going to be harder than I’d guessed. I figured it would be a faux pas to walk to the bar and ask for the magician in the house, which left me trying to be inconspicuous while figuring out who might be my best bet. Thinking food would make me look like I belonged, I walked to the bar and ordered fried vegetables and ranch dip. I added a chocolate shake to my order, and sat down to listen to the serious drinkers. Their conversation suggested my bender assumption was accurate, and I opted to move to a table in a central position to both of the other occupied tables.
Twiddling with a salt shaker, I listened intently to the conversation behind me. Neither of the tables sounded like they were talking about the metaphysical. My food came, I ate it, and still had no leads. I walked back to the bartender and returned my red plastic basket which now only held a paper cup from the ranch, a spattering of crumbs and grease, and decided to go for broke.
“I am looking for a man named Max.”
“Okay.” He looked agreeable.
“Is Max here?” I prompted when he went back to ignoring me.
“Uh, huh.” He nodded.
I gave him a dirty look. “Where?”
He smiled at me. I glared at him and held out a ten dollar bill. “I haven’t seen him lately. Maybe you could look at this and tell me where in here he is?”
He snagged the ten and nodded at the booth toward the front. Okay, they weren’t having a secret lover’s meeting. I can’t always be right.
“Thanks, tons.”
The barkeep nodded and smiled again. “Max don’t like to be bothered.”
I nodded at him. “Then I will try not to bother him.”
I spun on my heel and advanced to the front of the bar where the man and woman were seated together. The slender woman wore a white blouse with pinstripe slacks on. Her hair sat at the back of her head in a business-like knot, but she had the eternally pinched look of a sour disposition or an extreme liking for tart lemons. Mean girl, I decided arbitrarily.
Strikingly handsome, the man had blood red hair with pretty chestnut highlights. A twang of recognition flared in my chest when I looked at him, but I quickly chalked it up to nerves. His bright green eyes were such a vibrant color, they reminded me of Heineken glass beer bottles. Okay, maybe the comparison was because we were in a bar, but regardless, they were very green and laughing. He had happy eyes and reminded me a bit of a handsome, human, golden retriever. Or maybe I was low on sleep.
I sat down at their table as if I had every right. I am one of those people who, by nature, is tentative. Sadly, this personality trait sort of goes out the window if I am either tired, drunk, or felt too insecure. Then I tend to just bullshit my way through situations.
Two of my blunt-bullshit criteria were in play here, so I was bullshitting full force. “Hi, Max?” I plastered a wide grin on my face and looked at the man.
“I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage. You are?” Happy and smooth, his voice fit those strange, cheery eyes. He, however, did not fit my predetermined mental image of master magician.
“I am a friend of Mia’s. She said I should come down here and ask if you knew why someone would try to punch a wooden stake through her chest. I think she wants to know because tried to off Vance then killed Marcus and Madame Hula.”
“Zulu,” corrected the woman.
I shrugged. “I’m new to town. Mia said that you might know what was up. So, do you?”
The man shook his head at the woman. “Vance was dead. I read the coroners report and—”
“Yeah, I heard about that.” I tapped my fingernails on the table, redirecting the attention back to me and my problems. “I guess vampires kind of throw off coroners. Also, whoever tried to stake him hit his collarbone, not heart. Did you know when they say you can kill a vampire with a stake, they don’t mean steak knife?”
“That idiot used a steak knife?” sputtered the woman.
“No. I was just making conversation, but who is the idiot?” Turns out I am good at interrogation. Dumb luck, I guess.
“There are things that you don’t want to get mixed up with in this town. You’re new, and you don’t know who we are. I will give you the benefit of doubt this one time and tell you to drop this, Miss…?”
“Janie Smith.” At their mutual doubtful looks, I shrugged. “I didn’t pick the name.”
“You could have
just said you weren’t willing to tell us your name.” Her little pinched face grew more pinched.
“No, really. I have ID. Ask your bartender.”
The happy eyed man smiled at me, but it seemed a bit strained. “You probably just want to drop this and leave town the way you came in. You aren’t part of this and you don’t want to be.”
“Unfortunately, Mia means a lot to me. So I am part of this.”
“Indeed, that is unfortunate, Ms. Smith,” snarled the woman. I shrugged and left, figuring they’d told me all they would for now.
~
Maybe I hadn’t handled that well, but at least when Vance woke up, I could tell him Max definitely knew who’d staked him. As a vampire, he could take it from there, or so I hoped. Singing along merrily with Oasis about the Wonderwall. I decided to shoot the hills on my way home.
My usual route would have been Route Eleven, the quick way to get to Ashtabula, Conneaut, the Lake, and all points between. “Shooting the hills” meant I would drive through the gulf created by the Ashtabula River. A winding road, it curved both up and down steep hills and geographically seemed to belong in Appalacia more than Ohio.
As I drove, I thought deep thoughts about my ex-husband and his new wife, Vickie and my life so far, and other general concerns, paying little attention to the white and tan Ford Bronco on my tail until it tapped my rear end and sent my car into a little swerve.
Sitting up straighter, I considered the truck in my rearview mirror. They’d hit me! As we sped over the tracks, we headed down into the Gulf itself and I nearly took out a sign warning trucks to hit their brakes with my swerve. Planning to pull over and exchange insurance information with them, I hesitated when the car sped up and came alongside me. The man inside laughed and swerved toward my side, attempting to push me off the road and into a wall of rock.
I slammed on my gas and got ahead of him again. Okay, maybe he doesn’t want my insurance information. He slammed on his gas also and tried to get alongside me again.
Shit! Freaking vampire freaking caused all this freaking mess. Shit, shit shit.
Biting my tongue, I waited until he was close to my tail, but alongside me, before hitting my brakes. That put him ahead of me before he realized what I planned. Which seemed like a good idea until he slid his car sideways and blocked my way. That wouldn’t have been bad if we had gotten, say, a half-mile further, where I could easily have turned around and gone the other way.
As it was, rock walls lined both sides of the road. I was neatly pinned, unless I attempted a three—or more likely, five or six—point turn. Somehow, I didn’t think he was in the mood to give me that much time.
Crap.
The man still laughed at me. Ignoring that, I revved my engine and began attempting to turn, even knowing it wasn’t going to work out, hoping someone would come along and see the situation. The man got out of his car and came toward me right about when I faced the rock to the front and had the rock behind me. Basically, when there was no way I was getting away quickly.
I thought fast. No choices left. I rolled down my window and began to sing loudly to Wonderwall. Today is gonna be the day that they’re gonna throw it back to you. By now you shoulda somehow realized what you gotta do. I don’t believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now.
He laughed a little harder. “What are you doin’? You gonna sing me away?”
Backbeat, the word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out. I’m sure you heard it all before, but you never really had a doubt. I don’t believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now. He tilted his head at me, and I closed my eyes and continued, letting myself get into it. There are many things that I would like to say to you I don’t know how—cause maybe, you’re gonna be the one that saves me…and after all…you’re my wonderwa-a-ll.
I opened my eyes slowly and let my hair down. It fell around my shoulders until an unseen breeze lifted the strands. More accurately, it moved with the moon. My hair waved, literally, with the lake which was why I kept it pinned back all the time. I unbuckled my belt and got out of the car. My attacker stood, mouth hanging open, face as blank as a cleaned whiteboard. I said maybe, you’re gonna be the one that saves me—
I continued singing as I walked to his car. I got in, and realized that Mr. Badass trailed behind me like sheeple, some drool at the corner of his mouth accenting his empty expression. I sighed. I gunned his engine and planted his car in the rock wall. I shook my head at the impact and got out of the car.
I went back to singing. Cause after all, you’re my wonderwa-a-ll.
I walked to my assailant, who was now willing to do whatever I asked. Unable to resist temptation entirely, I kicked him in the shin. He gasped, a marionette without strings. “Oof!” He returned to gazing at me with all the intellect of a coma patient, so I led him back to his car and put him behind the wheel. I buckled him in, got back in my car and left.
I shook my head and cursed Vance and Mia. Ten years I had gone, ten freaking years, and here I was, falling off the ruddy wagon, and for what? A vampire who would suck me dry of every drop of blood if he had a clue what he was faced with? Who essentially admitted to killing the rest of my entire race? There were tons of vampires around, supposedly, and only one me. Not the best of odds, far from in my favor. Unlocking the door to Mia’s store, I plunked down my purse on the window seat and curled into it, falling into restless sleep.
I woke with a start at a tugging on my arm. My daughter stood by the chair. “Mom, hey, I like this school. Look, I only have one page of homework and we already covered this at Dunbar.” Dunbar was her elementary school in Connellsville, where we’d lived before I relocated us. I brushed a stray lock of her hair back. She was so pretty.
“Vickie, we might not be able to stay here. But I am trying.”
She touched my hair. I had yet to pull it back up. “I know mom. Don’t sweat it, okay? Home wasn’t that great anyway.”
I smiled at her. She was my wonderwall.
CHAPTER Five
Sven popped in while Vickie and I were downstairs and said he would open today. As I had no complaints, having my fill of Odd Stuff, both literally and figuratively, so Vickie and I bounced upstairs.
We settled down to a game of UNO after she whizzed through her homework. After an hour of game play, we decided it would make a great movie night and were torn between Little Shop of Horrors—her pick—and Corpse Bride—my pick. We played rock-paper-scissors and I won, so Tim Burton and the voice of Johnny Depp filled the living room. I heated a vegetable lasagna out of Mia’s freezer and we ate while curled up on Mia’s sectional. After rinsing the dishes, I rejoined Vickie on the couch and was soon lulled back to sleep, curled around my daughter. Vickie must have dozed off, too, because the next thing I knew Sven leaned over her and whispered my name. “Hmm?”
“Can you come down and take over for an hour, so I can eat?”
I glanced at the TV, which showed the main menu of the DVD, and then at the clock above it that read eight. I carefully unwound myself from the web of Vickie’s ever growing limbs and covered her with a blanket before plodding to the bathroom. Splashing cold water on my face in a feeble attempt at waking myself, I then plodded downstairs to relieve Sven.
I mumbled about the veggie lasagna, and he trotted up the stairs. Today his a tee proclaimed, As I will, so mote it be under the leopard print blazer.
I slouched into the chair behind the counter and watched a woman sift through the incense selection, carefully smelling a stick of each before shaking her head and replacing them.
The bell on the door rang out in merry tones, and three women entered the store. The first stood very tall, nearly six foot, with hair about three shades lighter than mine. Slim and reedy, she wore a Christmas-y sweater of snowflakes on a field of blue with little rhinestones at the centers. The next smiled at me, as short and round as the other was tall. Dressed in what I thought of as soccer mom wear—a button down plaid shirt and khaki pants,
she was topped with salt and pepper gray hair, heavy on the salt. Her purse seemed big enough to carry a mini van.
The third, I’d met the night before. It took me a second to recognize Wiccan stripper, Julia, since she looked different with all of her clothes on. Her long auburn hair, pulled back in a braid down her back, framed eyes that glittered a clear yellowish brown, like topaz, and her face looked younger washed clean of make-up. She wore a black leather bomber jacket over a tight vee-neck top in pale blue and a sliver necklace of a pentacle hung around her swanlike neck. Jeans and black cowboy boots completed her ensemble.
What is the proper way to greet someone that cut their arm on a beer bottle to keep the vampires from biting you? “Thanks,” seemed inadequate.
The only other thing I knew about her was that she was a stripper. But, “Hey, it’s nice to see you in clothes,” seemed tasteless.
I settled with, “Welcome to Odd Stuff. Can I help you ladies find anything?”
Julia smiled at me, and her companions followed her to the counter. “Hey, pretty crazy night last night, wasn’t it?”
I smiled back. She was genuinely friendly and I liked her, choice of occupation notwithstanding. I am sure my mother would have listed that under poor judge of character, but, hey, since when had I made choices she would approve of? “Yeah, that’s kind of an understatement. You wouldn’t believe me, but it just got crazier as it wore on.”
“You were with Vance. I believe it.”
I eyed her. I wondered how much she knew about Vance and how much of it was from personal experience. Not that I was personally interested in him myself, but out of curiosity.
The blond Amazon woman laughed. “No one knows Vance that well. And let me tell you, quite a few have tried. I had a thing for him myself, oh, about fifteen years ago?” She looked to the older woman, who nodded.
I looked at her closely. Did she just read my mind?
“Yup.” She nodded. “I am very sensitive.”
I nodded in return, lips tight. Who are these women?
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