by Ashlyn Chase
“Could have, but didn’t. My mother always married well, and didn’t work a day in her life. I wanted to know I could make it on my own, so I didn’t ask for their help. They didn’t like the idea of my being out there, so they let me fall on my face.”
“That doesn’t sound very supportive.”
“Maybe not. Or maybe in the long run it worked out the way it was supposed to. I like my life now.”
He nodded. “Maybe it was meant to be.” Something else he hadn’t heard before caught his attention. “You said you’re mother always married well. How many times?”
“Four.”
“Yikes. That’s another reason you don’t believe in lasting relationships.”
“Yup. Look, I know you wanted to get to know me better, but I think I’ve done all the sharing I can for one day.”
“Noted,” he said.
“I have a question for her,” Charlotte said.
Ethan ignored her.
“Hey. I’m talking to you.”
Suddenly Brigit started to laugh, then covered her mouth.
“What?”
“Charlotte just whacked you upside the head.”
He smirked. “Nice try, Charlotte. I didn’t feel a thing.”
“She looks pretty upset, Ethan. What’s she trying to tell you?”
“Nothing. Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”
Brigit frowned, but took the stool next to Ethan and watched as he dug in. Then her attention seemed diverted. The black veil floated in front of her. Oh, no. Charlotte’s probably trying to communicate with her by lip reading.
“Oh,” Brigit said eventually. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Charlotte.”
“What? Can you hear her now?”
“No. She’s kind of playing charades with me.”
“And you understood her?” he asked.
“I think so. She wants to see the baby when you’re not home.” She sighed. “Now she’s tapping her nose. I take it that means I got it on the nose. Yeah. She’s nodding.” Brigit stared at her feet. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Damn it. Ask her why not?”
“Charlotte, I think you can figure out why she wouldn’t want to do that. You’ll probably gush to me about how beautiful the baby is and make me want to investigate.”
Brigit tapped her own nose.
* * * *
“Hanna!” Fayleen rushed into the hotel, not even trying to blend in or use the other witch’s real-world name.
Hanna grabbed her arm and dragged her behind the nearest partition. “It’s Hazel here, you idiot. And what made you rush in, wearing your long, white gown, calling out to me from thirty feet away? You call that subtle?”
“You’d rather I was sky-clad?”
“Of course not, but you look like a bridezilla nut job.”
“Good. Then no one will approach us.” Fayleen glanced around, making sure no one was within earshot. “I have something important to tell you.”
“Keep your voice down, and spit it out.”
“The Stregheria know we’ve lost the grail,” she whispered.
Hanna’s jaw dropped. Then she appeared to compose herself. “You mean you’ve lost it.”
“Yeah, I probably have. Especially since they’re sniffing around, trying to find it.”
“What? How?”
“I had to tell the other supernaturals. One of them had a candidate who was ready, and I had to explain why I couldn’t hand it over.”
“Oh, fuck. Why didn’t you just make up an excuse?”
“Like what? I sent it out to be dry-cleaned? You know I’m not a good liar.”
Hanna pinched the bridge of her nose. “Who told the Stregheria?”
“I don’t know, but there are a few supernatural members who think the Boschetto should have a representative. The grail came from their ancestors, after all.”
“Yeah, and they couldn’t be trusted with it. All we needed was one of them to use it to create an army. You know they believe in war magic.”
Fayleen rolled her eyes. “War magic doesn’t mean literally starting a war.”
“It could. Can you imagine supernatural powers in the wrong hands? They could decide the world should be one Kingdom with them ruling it from an ancient castle.”
Fayleen tipped her head. “Actually, I can imagine that. Why didn’t we think of it? Except a drafty old castle isn’t my idea of comfort. Maybe one of those mega mansions on the west coast...”
Hanna threw her hands in the air.
“Well, it might be nice to have everyone on the same side. It could stop all wars, eventually.”
“I doubt it. Humans are flawed. Greedy, envious and prideful.”
“Yeah, yeah. And lazy and lustful and gluttonous. The seven deadly sins.”
“The one you missed is Wrath. Guess which one I’m trying to squash now?”
Fayleen crossed her arms. “Maybe if you’d agreed to help me pick through the dump we’d have found it by now.”
Hanna’s jaw dropped. “Seriously? You’re pinning this on me?”
“No. It was my cat that knocked it into the basket and my housekeeper who thought that meant it was trash and threw it out. I’m sort-of responsible.”
“Um, yeah. You left out the part where you forgot to put it away in its safe hiding place.”
Fayleen waved away the obvious. In the grand scheme of things, Hanna was always too logical. “Look. I only got part of the way through that massive landfill. I really do need some help, especially if the Stregas are after it too.”
Hanna sighed and checked her watch. “It’s almost lunchtime. I’ll let the front desk know I may be a little late getting back.”
“You’ll want to change your clothes too.”
Hanna glanced down at her navy blue designer suit. “Gee. Ya think?”
Chapter 6
“So, Brigit...Why are you here?” the therapist asked.
“Because my sister dragged me.”
Dr. Diaz adjusted position in her chair. Brigit thought she looked like she was getting ready to stand and escort her out the door.
The therapist chuckled. “I’ve heard that more than once.”
No such luck. I guess she was just getting comfortable.
“Why don’t you start with why your sister thinks you need to talk to someone.”
Brigit sighed. “Because I want to get pregnant and talked a nice guy into sleeping with me, and then leaving me alone afterward. She thinks I should do everything the normal way.” She used air quote with the word, normal.
“These days there isn’t a normal way. Or maybe I should say normal is different for different people.”
“Thank you! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her.” Brigit rose. “Well, I guess that’s settled.”
“Wait. You’ve paid for the hour. Why don’t we chat a little longer?”
“Um. You seem nice and everything, but I don’t usually air my dirty laundry with strangers.”
“Dirty laundry? What do you mean?”
Oh, crap. Here we go. Brigit sat on the couch again. “This may seem strange to you, but I’m very independent and don’t want a man interfering with my life and my decisions.”
“That’s not strange at all.”
“Again, thank you.” Maybe this woman gets it after all.
“Is there any reason that you can’t trust this man to respect your decision making ability?”
“Not at all. We’re Wiccan. I think we respect each other as equals more than most.”
“Hmmm...”
“What does ‘hmmm’ mean?” Brigit asked.
“If it’s not him, I was just wondering if there were, or are, other men in your life who’ve disrespected your decisions.”
She tipped her head and pondered. “Yeah. Now that I think of it, there have been quite a few.”
“Tell me about some of them.”
“My step-dad didn’t want me going to Hollywood to pursue an acting career. Aft
er I tried for ten years with only minimal success and wanted to come home, my agent and my roomie tried to talk me out of it.”
She sighed. “And in the spirit of total honesty, my agent called yesterday and tried to talk me into coming back. Something about the role of a lifetime—I’d be perfect for it, Blah, blah, blah.”
“What did you say?”
“It went to voice mail, thankfully. When I called back I just left a message with his secretary, saying that I wasn’t interested.”
“You must have known in your heart coming home was the right decision and you stuck to your guns. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here now.”
Brigit nodded. “I’m pretty good at sticking to my guns, as you so nicely put it. My family calls it unreasonable stubbornness.”
“Unreasonable? Is there any validity there?”
Brigit narrowed her eyes. “Meaning what?”
“Can you not be reasoned with?”
“Of course I can be reasoned with. I was raised not to interrupt anyone, so I don’t pull the old ‘talk to the hand’ approach. I listen to what other people have to say. I just listen to my inner voice more.”
Dr. Diaz nodded. “That seems reasonable to me.”
Brigit found herself liking this woman, and their conversation was actually helping her clarify a few things. Her sister almost had her doubting herself. Now she had ammunition to tell her dear sister to take a flying leap. Whoa. Are you hearing yourself, Brigit?
“Your expression changed. What were you thinking just now?”
Brigit really didn’t want to divulge that, but what the heck... “I was just wondering if I could use this conversation to tell off my sister. I think I just figured out why some people might think I’m unreasonable.”
The doctor smiled. “Great insight.”
“Yeah...great,” she said sardonically.
* * * *
Ethan was talking to his deck hand when Brigit strolled up to the gate. He smiled and excused himself.
“Hey, beautiful.” He unlocked the entrance and let her in. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I was in town anyway and thought I’d take a chance. Are you busy?”
“Not at the moment. I have a job in a few hours.”
She looked up at him coquettishly. “Does that mean there’s time for a quickie?”
“Jesus, Bridge.” He glanced left and right. No one seemed to have overheard. He let out a deep breath. “Did you fail a pregnancy test already?”
“No. I haven’t checked. It’s only been a couple of days. I just thought—you know. Maybe just to be sure...”
He laughed. “I guess you didn’t hate the experience.”
“Not at all.” She smiled up at him and took his hands. “Ethan, it’s never been like that for me before. I—I’d like to do the dating thing.”
He smiled, but his suspicion must have shown through.
“I swear, it’s not a trick. I don’t want to change the outcome. I just thought maybe we could have some fun along the way.”
“Come aboard and we can talk about it more privately.”
He escorted her onto his boat and as soon as she was settled at the kitchen table he offered her a cup of tea.
“You have tea now?”
“Yeah, I bought some after I knew what you liked. I had thought maybe...well, never mind. Yeah, I have some Chamomile. Would you like a cup?”
“Sure.”
While the kettle was heating, he found two cups and began making a small pot of coffee for himself. “What brought on this change of heart?”
She dropped her gaze. “Promise you won’t laugh.”
He tipped his head. “Why would I laugh?”
She sighed. “I saw a therapist. My sister talked me into it.”
“Oh? There’s nothing wrong with that. Why did you think I might laugh?”
She shrugged. “Well, I know guys aren’t big on therapy. Most think it’s a waste of time and money.”
He sat across from her as their drinks were brewing. “I don’t think it’s a waste. Or if it is, you’ve got the wrong therapist. I went to one after my mother’s suicide.”
She flattened her back against the bench seat. “You did?”
“Yeah. I really needed to look at my life at that point. Maybe the guys you knew in Hollywood weren’t into it, but therapy—or just having someone trustworthy to talk to—can be very helpful.”
She nodded. “I can see that now.”
“So, it sounds like it’s been a good thing for you. At least you seem more relaxed.”
She grinned. “That might be because I got laid.”
He laughed. “Glad I could help.”
The kettle whistled and he jumped up to finish making her tea. Setting the cup in front of her, he gave her a genuine smile. “There are sugar packets in that covered bowl.” The plastic tub wasn’t fancy, but they kept sugar and salt flowing freely in the ocean air. Then he returned for his coffee.
She blew on her tea, and her rounded lips reminding him that she’d offered to give him a blow job.
“I wasn’t planning on anything. I have a bed here, but it’s just a small bunk.”
She went to take a sip, then smiled instead. “Hmmm...choices. Your attic. Your bedroom, or your boat. It makes no difference to me.”
He didn’t know how far to push this new attitude of hers, but he figured it was worth a try. “Or we could go to your place.”
She set her tea on the table and her lips thinned. “I still don’t want you to know where I live.”
We’ll see about that. “But you want to date. I’m just trying to figure out where things stand.”
She hesitated, but eventually nodded. “I’d like to invite you to a play. It’s one of my favorites, and the Portsmouth Playhouse has some very talented professionals.”
“You know that place is supposed to be haunted, right?”
“Oh, crap. No, I didn’t.”
“Can’t you just ignore a spirit? I ignore Charlotte when other people are around. She doesn’t like it, but she understands how it would look to a visitor if I were talking to thin air.”
She bit her lip. “Sometimes I pretend I can’t see them and they’ll go away.”
“Sounds like that’s all you need to do, then. What’s the play?”
“The Crucible.”
“Wow. That’s one of your favorites? It’s kind of heavy and sad for witches.”
“I know, but they weren’t really witches, and innocent people need to be mourned. Today's Salem witches still gather on Gallows Hill every Samhain to honor their memories.”
“We Portsmouth witches honor our ancestors in our own way,” he said. “I’m a descendent
“Sunday’s the last night.”
“I’m on call, as always, but I should be able to take you.”
“I’m taking you.”
“No way. It’s a man’s prerogative to pay for dates, and I want to.”
She bit her lip and looked pensive. At last she nodded. “All right. I’ll pay you back in the bedroom.”
Booyah!
* * * *
Hanna stood on a trash heap and leaned back until she felt the crick in her spine pop, then she let out a satisfied “Ahhh...” She used the back of her hand to wipe the sweat off her face and afterward noticed it was streaked with dirt. Now her face probably was too. She glared at Fayleen. “I can’t believe you talked me into going dump picking.”
In a mock low voice, Fayleen answered, “I only take you to the nicest places, dear.”
Hanna rolled her eyes. “Sadly, this is the only ‘date’ I’ve had in months—if I were dating you—which I’m not and never would.”
“Hey, you’re not my type, either, babe. Now keep looking. It’s got to be in here somewhere.”
Hanna plunked her bottom down on an old portable dishwasher. “There has to be a better way to do this.” She surveyed the area. Other than woods on one side and a chain link fence on the other, ther
e was nothing nearby. A dirt road down the middle was empty, so they looked as if they were alone.
Fayleen seemed to know what she was thinking, stopped sifting through the junk and glanced around the area too. “I don’t see anyone. Do you?”
“Nope. Not a soul.”
The witches grinned at each other, then trod down the garbage laden mountain and stood in the road.
“You take this side, and I’ll take that side,” Hanna said.
“Bossy as usual,” Fayleen muttered under her breath.
“Hey! You can do the whole thing by yourself—”
“No, no. Point taken. I’m very grateful that you’re helping me with this.”
“Humph. I wouldn’t wear the crappiest overalls on earth for just anybody.”
“Awww...” Fayleen chuckled. “Okay, let’s sift.”
Each witch extended her arm and piles of trash lifted by themselves. As the women moved their arms side to side, like a leaf blower, the trash undulated in a wave, revealing whatever was buried beneath. Pass after pass, pieces flying up and down the pile hadn’t revealed what they were looking for.
A commanding female voice from the woods said, “Way to keep your supernatural gifts under wraps, assholes.”
Hanna and Fayleen dropped their arms and faced the woods with their hands clasped behind their backs. When the last of the trash had obeyed the laws of gravity and fluttered to their final resting places, a group of black clad women stepped out of the woods.
“So...what are you doing?” asked one of the strangers innocently.
“Nuthin’” Fayleen said, just as innocently.
The interlopers formed a line, and all thirteen of them folded their arms in unison. They looked like the opposite of a cheerleading squad.
“So, who are you?” Hanna asked.
The women in the center smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Uh, yeah. That’s why I asked,” Hanna said, as condescendingly as she could while shaking in her rubber boots.
One of the younger women tipped her nose in the air and said, “We are Stregherias.”
Her sister witches whipped their heads toward her and frowned.
“Oops,” she said.
“That information was on a ‘need to know’ basis, Andrea,” the crone in the center snapped.
“Sorry.”
The leader faced Hanna and Fayleen and just stared at them for a few moments.
