Desert Magick: Dream Catcher

by Dana Davis

  Zoey sighed. Her aunt and uncle would be devastated to see the McMansion in their beloved neighborhood. She shook her head as she turned up the flagstone walkway that led to Jason’s door. To save money, he was living with his parents until graduation. He’d invited her to this family barbeque, and she suspected Connie wanted to find out how things were going with the box.

  Zoey just wanted this whole Anguisher thing to be over, so she could get back to a normal life. Somewhat anyway.

  Except for brief lunches and their Wednesday carpool ride, she hadn’t seen Jason much since her birthday last weekend. God, had it only been a week since she’d opened that damn box? She longed for Jason’s embrace and another round of amazing sex and hoped they would get some time alone this evening.

  As she stepped to the porch, the smell of food cooking over a fire made her stomach rumble. She was more than ready for dinner as well as for Jason. She adjusted her shorts and ponytail and rang the bell.

  “Coming!” Connie’s voice sang from inside. The woman displayed a huge grin when she opened the door. Maybe she had good news to share.

  “Mmm,” George said as he stepped next to his wife and squinted at Zoey. “You still look to be in one piece. Things must have gone pretty well this week, considering.”

  She couldn’t help but grin back. George had that effect on people. Especially with the silly KISS THE CHEF apron he wore over a t-shirt and shorts. Freckles accented the reddish tint of his skin and white strands spotted his sandy hair. “Yeah, thanks.”

  “Come in, dear. Come in.” Connie ushered her inside the air conditioned home and she handed over the beer. “Thank you. Jason’s out back.”

  Zoey continued through the family room, which smelled suspiciously of homemade tamales, out the slider and onto the covered patio that extended the entire length of the house. The ceiling fans and misters were on, cooling the area nicely, and Connie had strung chili pepper lights all along the eaves. Daisy, Noah and Bridgette lounged on various patio chairs. So they’d carpooled.

  Perky ran up to Zoey, tail wagging, and she scooped him up. “Hi there.” She giggled when he licked her chin then glanced at Daisy. “Hey.”

  The witch smiled. “Hey, yourself. He really likes you. Maybe you can watch him for us sometime.”

  “I’d love to.”

  Daisy wore vintage shorts, a cotton blouse and sandals, very unassuming. If she didn’t know better, Zoey would never suspect the woman to be a powerful witch. Noah sat across from his wife, closer to the misters, in his generic, guy shorts, t-shirt and sandals. Zoey liked Noah, what she knew of him anyway. He seemed devoted to Daisy and not at all intimidated by the witch’s powers.

  Daisy waggled a finger at her. “Keeping out of trouble, missy?”

  She put Perky down and he ran after a quail. “Now, what fun is that?”

  Bridgette smirked. “My kinda girl.” The redhead wore designer cut-offs that displayed those long legs as she stretched out on a lounge chair, looking quite at home. A yellow, lace-up tank covered just enough cleavage not to be sleazy, and her hair looked like flames spilling over the large barrette. Expensive-looking, leather sandals with rhinestones completed her outfit. At least, Zoey guessed they were rhinestones. With Bridgette, who knew? Her gaze drifted down to the Celtic ankle tattoo that made the witch look like a badass desert chick and she smiled. Bridgette toasted her with a beer and smirked.

  Does she have her senses open? Can she read me? Deciding the redhead was minding her own business, Zoey relaxed and headed toward Jason.

  Her man hovered over the built-in grill, which gave off unwelcome heat. She admired his abs in the fitted t-shirt he wore with his shorts. He’d filled out over the last couple of years, especially in the chest and arms, and looked yummy in just about anything these days. He made his way to her, giving over barbeque duties to his father. “Hey, babe.”

  The two exchanged a quick kiss and Zoey wished they could be alone. She put her lips to his ear. “You look scrumptious.”

  “Thank you.” He smirked. “So do you. Good enough to eat.”

  Her body tingled at the innuendo and she gave him a smoldering look.

  “You children are doing well with your new jobs,” Connie said from the patio. She couldn’t possibly have heard their private exchanges.

  Zoey fought a frown at the woman’s choice of words, though. She hadn’t felt like a child for many years. She forced a smile. “I had no idea we had so many family secrets.”

  Connie laughed. “You’ll get used to it.”

  Jason reached into a cooler and brought out two beers, popped the metal caps off, and handed one to Zoey. She thanked him and took a long drink, welcoming the burn that traveled down her gullet. If she were alone, she’d probably drink herself into a stupor tonight. Maybe take some of the edge off her newfound duties: destiny… fate… whatever.

  Jason gave her an understanding look, took her by the arm, and led her toward the side yard. Long shadows played across the granite as the sun dipped low in the sky. The few puffs of clouds that had teased Zoey into thinking another monsoon might appear were turning pink and orange as they dispersed. Jason stopped beneath the familiar mesquite that provided a shady spot perfect for lovers. It was hot, even under the tree. No misters out here. He placed an arm around her shoulders and they sat on the old log bench made from a tree that didn’t grow anywhere around here.

  Zoey drank more of her beer and squinted at the setting sun as it sifted through the branches. Too bad Jason’s parents didn’t have a pool.

  “I think there’s something they’re not telling us,” he said.

  “Oh? Any idea what?” Maybe it had to do with the Anguisher.

  “No. But they’ve been secretive all day.”

  Zoey nodded. She could wait to hear bad news, if that’s what it was. “So, have you done any storytelling lately?” She grinned.

  Jason pulled her closer. He smelled slightly of sweat that reminded her of their lovemaking and she forced her brain to focus on his words. “I’ve mainly been perusing Dad’s library, trying to find out which stories need to be republished.”

  “And?” He kissed her, making the evening even hotter, then pulled away and shook his head. Her heart did a jig and droplets of sweat trickled down her back. “Can’t talk about it, huh?”

  “Storyteller privileges and all that crap.”

  She nodded and leaned into him, wishing they could be more intimate about their work. Hell, I wish we could be more intimate, period, right now. “I’m not sure I want this job.”

  He stiffened. “You can’t quit.”

  “I know.” Damnit, do I ever know that. Another Catcher wouldn’t emerge until Zoey had a daughter. “But there has to be some other paranormal out there who qualifies. I can’t imagine me being the only one. Aunt Mena had my mother.” But Rena had renounced the job and taken off to Europe.

  Jason didn’t answer. He just tightened his grip around her shoulders. She snuggled close and they watched the sun dip lower in comfortable silence.

  “Hey, lovebirds.” George stepped around the side of the house. His apron had a few stains on it now. “Burgers are ready.”

  “Thanks, Dad. Be right there.” Jason held his beer in one hand and grabbed Zoey’s hand with his other. “Come on, gorgeous. I’m starved.” He pulled her along behind him.

  They ate green corn tamales, burgers, chips, and roasted corn on the cob. Daisy had brought a homemade apple pie for desert. Zoey reveled in the normalcy of the evening, chatting with family about unimportant things, laughing with her cousins and playing with the dog.

  Once their bellies were full, the group lounged on chairs and chatted under the chili pepper lights. The mist spraying behind the lights added to the homey ambiance, as well as quelled the heat. The clouds had dispersed and stars peered down from a clear purple sky. Very romantic. Zoey smiled at Jason and he leaned across his chair to give her a light peck on the lips. If the others had seen, they didn’t comment.

/>   Bridgette got up for another beer and had just resettled in her lounger, when Jason’s parents exchanged several odd glances toward Zoey. She wondered whether she had something on her face or clothing and was about to head inside to the bathroom to check.

  “Well,” Connie said abruptly. Her gaze took in Daisy, Noah, then Bridgette. “Since you already know about Zoey and are helping her, we’ve decided to fill you in on our jobs too. We can’t tell you any details but you’ll get the gist of what we do.”

  So, this is the secret Jason was worried about. Zoey smiled and relaxed.

  “I’m a Wind Mother. One of five in the world. We don’t control the weather, but we do have some influence. We have to be careful though. Too much tampering can do more damage than good.”

  Daisy seemed shocked, and possibly a bit ticked off, while Noah looked like a schoolboy learning about the birds and the bees. Bridgette sat with a blank look on her face and downed another beer.

  Connie motioned to her husband, who sat with a wide grin on a folding chair. “George is a Storyteller and is training Jason now.”

  The man nodded. “There are several of us worldwide and we work in different genres. Jason and I are in charge of keeping certain myths and legends alive. Ours date back to the some of the very first civilizations.”

  Zoey didn’t realize how just important Jason’s job was until now. Muse, indeed.

  Silence followed for several seconds then Daisy let out a noisy breath. “I can’t believe I never knew anything about you guys.” She sounded a bit put out.

  George spoke up. “That’s the whole point, Daisy.”

  “Yeah, I guess. But Zoey is family. I haven’t found even a hint at her powers in all my genealogy books. I even had Bridgette’s mom check hers. I didn’t give you away, of course. But Aunt Marge had no unusual paranormals listed either. Well, no more unusual than is normal for us anyway.”

  Zoey grunted. “Paranormals are fucking paranoidals.” All eyes turned to her and her face heated. “Did I say that out loud?”

  Jason gave a contagious belly laugh that caused everyone to let out a few chuckles. A nice break in the tension.

  When the laughter died down, Connie clapped her hands. “Well. Now that the kids are working on their careers, I think it’s time we let them in on another family tradition.”

  “Yes.” George nodded. “It’s time.”

  Zoey exchanged expectant glances with Jason. Another secret? She wondered at Connie’s huge grin. Oh, here it comes. I’m about to find out I had an ancestor named Hercules. And not only do I have to keep hope alive, I also have to save the world by fighting off multi-headed dogs. She glanced at Daisy but the witch shrugged. So, whatever the Dryden’s were about to announce, they’d kept to themselves. Big surprise.

  George stood next to his wife and cleared his throat. He’d shucked the apron before dinner and the serious look on his face took away all comical renderings Zoey had of him earlier. The mist gave the couple an ethereal quality, which added to her discomfort.

  What the hell are they up to? She didn’t have to wait long for the answer.

  George cleared his throat. “We, George Ellis and Connie Celine Dryden, agree that our son Jason Alexander Dryden is the one true match for Zoey Anne Vega. Do her guardians concur?”

  Before Zoey could utter a word, Connie followed with, “I, Connie Celine Dryden, on behalf of and with notarized permission from Mena Georgia and Alexander Piers Bram, do sincerely concur and approve of this betrothal.” One hand swept toward Daisy, Noah and Bridgette. “Let it be known that we swear to this in front of family witnesses.”

  What the hell? Zoey stared dumbfounded at Jason, whose mouth had dropped. “Betrothal?” she squeaked. She enjoyed being Jason’s girlfriend and certainly the sex, especially now that they both had their powers. But married? And an arranged one, at that. Her hackles went up. Her cousins looked just as befuddled.

  Jason sat in a stupor, not saying anything for a long moment. Then he uttered, “Mom. Dad. There must be some misunderstanding. We’re not engaged.”

  Zoey thought she sensed a “yet” on the end of his sentence. They hadn’t even discussed marriage. Maybe in the future. But they were both so young.

  “You don’t have a choice,” Connie said. “The decision was made long before either of you were born.”

  * * * *

  Zoey stormed out of the Dryden’s home. Jason called after her but she waved him off. Luckily, he didn’t follow her. Right now, she just wanted to be alone. She walked toward home, taking in long breaths and muttering to herself. She glanced back. Bridgette stood in the Dryden’s circular drive with Daisy and Noah, no doubt making sure Zoey got home safely. In the short time she’d known Bridgette and Daisy, the witches had revealed playful, yet protective, natures. Much like they displayed with each other. Any other time their presence would have comforted her. Right now, they just pissed her off. She sent a mental message to Bridgette that she didn’t need any fucking escorts, but the witch either didn’t have her senses open or she simply ignored Zoey. Probably the latter.

  She paused to let a family of javelina cross the street, and crinkled her nose at the musky scent that emanated from them. The pig-looking animals snorted as they scavenged for food. Had garbage day been tomorrow, there would’ve been containers tipped over up and down the street. One of the larger animals stopped a few feet from her, watching, while the rest of the small herd headed the other direction, hooves clicking on pavement. Once it decided she wasn’t a threat, it moved off with the rest.

  There goes the neighbor’s prickly pear. She wanted to do a bit of destruction herself and the image of mangled and eaten cactus left a satisfactory feeling in her gut. Zoey continued the half block toward her house and anger mounted with each step. Why in hell would her family arrange a marriage for her? That just wasn’t done anymore. At least not in this country. And damnit, we’re too young to marry. Mena and Alex must’ve agreed to it before their deaths. How else could they have signed that notarized copy of their acceptance? But why didn’t they talk to me about it? It’s not like Zoey didn’t want Jason in her life, but if they married, that should be their decision, no one else’s.

  The half block seemed farther than ever before and she couldn’t wait to get inside her home. Surely, her mother wouldn’t stand for this arrangement. Maybe she could contact the woman, if she could ever find out where the hell she was living now. But then again, her mother had granted legal custody to Mena and Alex years ago without so much as an argument. Could she have known about the marriage? Yes, Zoey decided. Rena knew. And she didn’t give a damn.

  As soon as she entered her home, she flipped on the lights and keyed the security door to lock it. The alarm was still off. She slammed the inner door, causing photos on the nearest walls to rattle.

  “How dare them!”

  She stormed directly to her bedroom and flipped on the ceiling fan light. The lacey pillows on her bed seemed to mock her and she threw each onto the floor in frustration. Next, she grabbed an old stuffed dog and flung it against the wall. None made a noise she thought satisfactory and she glanced around her room.

  She crossed to her bookshelf and picked up the glass unicorn, drew her arm back and prepared to lob it against the window shutters, hoping the shattering sound would pacify her. But she couldn’t do it. Mena and Alex had given it to her for her first birthday as their charge. She just couldn’t destroy it. Instead, she sucked in a long steady breath, let it out, and placed the unicorn back onto her childhood bookshelf. Not that tantrums didn’t feel good—she’d been a master of them at boarding school—but screaming and crying wouldn’t solve her problems now.

  Instead, she changed sandals for sneakers, grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, and headed out into the garage. After she turned the rotating fan and CD player on, she got into wraps and boxing gloves. She was already sweating by the time she started her warm-up.

  Time seemed as slippery as her skin as she punched and k
icked, practicing uppercuts, jabs and roundhouses against the bag that hung from the ceiling. Her spinning back kick was getting better but the heat made her dizzy so she didn’t do too many of those. She had no idea how long she pummeled her bag but her breath came fast and ragged and her body ran with sweat. She continued until her arms felt like noodles and she grew somewhat calm before heading inside.

  After her shower, she stretched out onto her bed and stared at the floor, like she’d done many times as a kid, wet hair dangling around her face. Not long after, the box pulled at her. She ignored it and flipped onto her side to hug her pillow. But the box wouldn’t give up and the spider web string caught her around the chest. At first, it was just annoying. But that annoyance soon turned to discomfort and Zoey squirmed to find a better position. That didn’t work. Soon a burning pain began in her belly, like period cramps, and radiated to her back.

  Great. Just fucking great. I can’t even relax in my own home anymore.

  Slowly, she rose and walked down the hall into the greatroom. She’d left the lights on in here. So much for saving energy. Not that her inheritance wouldn’t cover a few extra wattages of power, but she hated wasting energy, especially since she had to pay for it now.

  In several strides, she made it to the couch and flopped onto it. With two fingers, she unlatched the box lid and lifted it, turquoise gems lighting up. The swirling colors intensified as she stared into the vortex. Was it her imagination or did the black blemish appear larger now?

  An image of an old man sitting in an overstuffed chair rippled into existence. A fishing pole hung on the wall behind him. Some sort of cabin or shack. He was lonely but wanted to rise from the chair and head to a nearby lake. Though there was no one else in the room with the man and he had no ailments other than a touch of arthritis, he couldn’t get up. Something stopped him, barred his way. Slowly, like a coffee pot filling itself, depression began to seep into him, until the feeling grew to overwhelm his logic.