His face turned red with rage as I spoke, but when I added the Viking part he threw his arms in the air, releasing mine, and started laughing. I didn’t like being laughed at, but it was probably better than being hexed.
“You have a Viking. That’s rich.”
I nodded. “He protects me.”
“He’s dead.”
Well, there was that, but how rude to bring it up now. “That doesn’t mean he can’t do things.”
“Oh, I see. Just what kind of things does the dead Viking do to you?”
“Don’t be rude.”
“Sorry, couldn’t help it. I liked the image. Anyway. Where were we? Oh yes, you think you have an option of not belonging to the WEW council.”
“WEW?”
“Western Edge Witches, a group of witches who believe, quite rightly I might add, that we witches should all live by the code.”
“But I’m not a witch.” I can only hex diamonds. What was I thinking?
He rolled his eyes. “Watch this.” He walked to the far side of the room, picked up my bird book that lay on the windowsill, turned and hurled it at me.
I threw up my hands. The book stopped in mid-air. I eased my hands, and it continued in my direction at a slower pace. I caught it and gulped. “What the hell?”
“Hell has nothing to do with it, Abby. You are a witch. You have magical powers you need to control.”
“Can’t I just join a Wiccan group, dance naked in the moonlight and talk to the earth goddess?” My hands trembled and my heart jack-hammered in my chest. What was happening to me?
“Calm down. You need to calm down. An out-of-control witch can be dangerous.”
“But . . .”
“I know, I know, you don’t want to be a witch. Not now, at least. But trust me, you will grow to love your powers.”
“What powers do I have?”
His lips compressed. “You see, that’s the thing. We don’t know and we won’t know until you start using them.”
I nodded.
“Most witches are born into witch families. You have attained your powers in the most unusual way. It slid into you when you used an ancient potion, which you helped create. The council believes you must have had some magic in your blood to start with for such a transition to have taken place, but that doesn’t concern me. The fact remains that you are now a witch, one with powers and no idea how to use them. You must be tutored.”
“Tamed?”
His sexy grin slid back in place. “Now that would be fun, but no, I mean schooled. You must learn about magic the way young witches learn.”
“No thanks. I don’t have time. I have a haunted house or two to keep clean and kids to raise. I don’t have time to play catch with flying bird books.”
He squinted. “Let’s try one more thing.”
I swallowed.
“Raise your right hand and, with the palm facing outward, make a circle motion around the room.”
I did and nothing happened.
“Well done. Now do it again, but this time say, “Be clean.”
“What, no Latin? No hocus pocus?”
He rolled his eyes.
“Okay.” I raised my hand and, as I moved it in a queenly wave motion, I said, “Be clean.”
Dust rose from the furniture, formed a cloud in the air and popped. The papers on my desk straightened into neat piles. The boxes along the back shifted into orderly stacks. The window squeaked as it cleaned itself. And the final touch? The air shifted from dusty-haunted to sandlewood-fresh. My mouth dropped. “Okay, I liked that.”
“You see, magic can be your friend.”
Which obviously meant it could also be my enemy. “Can I give ghosts their lives back?”
“No. Don’t even try. That kind of magic is dark and . . .”
“Dangerous.” This I knew, but I had to ask.
“So you accept that you are a witch?”
“I accept that something has happened to me. But I’m not going to call you Lord. Ever.”
He chuckled. “Dante will do for now.”
“Look, Dante, you have arrived at a bad time. I have a lot to do.”
“I can see you need to come to terms with your new self. When you’re ready, I will return. I will be your teacher, if you wish. I don’t usually take on students, but you are a rare, rare student.”
“You, teach me magic? That’s not happening.”
He smirked.
“No thanks. The universe is laughing at me. I asked for more control and now I’ve got you trying to control me. No way.”
“Abby.”
“Yes.”
“You’re a witch, and I am part of your life. Get used to it.” He put his hand up to stop me from saying more and strode out of the room like a business man with a lot to do.
32
The Lord, or my Lord, or just Lord, or whatever, exited, leaving me with only Spark to talk to. “What the hell?”
“You’ll get used to him. Man-witches tend to be in love with themselves, but they can be a lot of fun.”
“I’m sure he can, but I’m not looking for that.”
As I stood there with my mouth open, Eric shimmered into view. “Who are you talking to?”
“Myself. I always talk to myself. Don’t you.” I probably said that too hastily. I sucked at lying. Note to self, google how to lie to your ghost.
“All women have secrets,” Spark whispered. Of course she was listening to my thoughts. She would always be listening. “Secrets add to the sizzle. They are better than chili peppers.”
Eric’s arctic-blue eyes softened. “You are such an odd one, my ӓskling. I have missed you.”
If he only knew how odd. “And I you,” I said as if I were the other half of a couple in a TV show. “More than you will ever know.”
“Oh, I know.” He gave me his bad-boy grin, the one that melted my bones.
Oh hell. We weren’t star-crossed lovers. We were life-and-death crossed lovers, and it didn’t matter how strange that might be, the love meant the world to me. What would he think of me if he knew I was a witch? Would that be the deal-breaker?
Tilting his head the way he always did when he went in understanding-boyfriend mode, he said, “Joy told me Ms. Dubois arrived early. I meant to be here for the finale, but . . .” The sound of a crow cawing outside our window took his attention for a minute. When we looked back at each other, he said, “Did you give her the diamonds?”
“Ah well,” I said. “I have a story for you.” I told him every last detail. His shimmer blazed brighter whenever I mentioned vanishing diamonds. When I got to the end of my tale he shone so brightly it was hard to look at him.
“What? The manor is yours?” His eyes widened.
“Yes, on paper at least.” Part of me wanted to say, “It’s ours” but Spark pulled so hard on my ear I risked losing it. She was probably right. To deed my house to a dead guy probably wasn’t best. I had three live children to raise.
“This is awesome.” His brilliance dulled to normal. “I wish I was alive to share it with you.”
I wanted to hold him so badly my teeth hurt. “I’ll never forget our night,” I said. “Never.”
His grin went wide and that twinkle in his eye reminded me of, well, reminded me of a lot of things a lady doesn’t say out loud. The kind of things a woman keeps to herself for eternity.
“He’s so hot.” Sparky sighed.
Sheesh. Would she always be there watching all the good moments? I shrugged.
“Why are you shrugging.”
“Just a shiver.” Would I ever get used to carrying on two simultaneous conversations? This new me would take time to get used to.
“Have you told the kids yet?”
“Nope. I wanted to finish journaling the case first. I need to write it all down before I forget it. I’ll tell them at dinner.”
“I’ll be there.”
I nodded.
Silence.
“And you’ll tell me where y
ou’ve been?”
“Later.” He vanished.
33
Walking home felt surreal. The rain had eased, and the air held that fresh, verdant fragrance of life that made living in a rainforest on the edge of the ocean so unforgettable. That wonderful feeling of being a part of nature, on a large and bold scale fed my soul, but didn’t mesh with the confusion of my thoughts.
The houses and manicured gardens I walked by every day looked the same, exactly the same. So much had changed in my life, and yet the hood remained the same, and its normalcy accentuated my feelings of abnormalcy. Yeah, I’d come up with a new word. How many ways could I conjugate and mutate the word abnormal? I hummed the Twilight Zone theme.
When I got to my house the dusky pink “Live or Dye” van parked in front of my rental lightened my mood. It looked as if someone had dumped a load of Pepto-Bismol on top of it, but I recognized it as my cousin Jillian’s mobile hairdressing van. It suited her style: warm, creative and I’ll just say it—on the wild side. I didn’t know what I’d do without her in my life, and words could never express how much she meant to me. Tears welled up in my eyes. Sheesh, I was getting all sentimental over a truck. The world had not changed, only me, and I could handle that. I would handle that. I had to handle that.
As I entered my house the kids jumped me. Jinx, dressed in her favorite pink tutu, reached me first and threw her arms around my thighs. She smelled of bubbles and peanut butter. I bent over to kiss her and she gave me a decidedly sticky but sweet kiss. Jonathan, wearing his cowboy hat, flew in on his skateboard, the toy he was not supposed to play with in the house. I sighed. When he reached us, he stretched his arms around both of us. Never to be left out, Jane, wearing sleepers with a moose motif on the front, ran up to me next and attacked my knees with goobery kisses. It was a group hug like no other. An all-arms-squeezing, hearts-pounding, happy-family hug. Could I be more blessed?
Over their heads I watched Eric shimmer into view, grinning from ear to ear. Could he feel our happiness? I hoped so.
My cousin Jillian appeared from around the kitchen wall. “You’re home!” She threw her hands in the air and wiggled her hips in her own version of a victory dance that made us all turn and laugh. I wasn’t sure if her joy was because she was happy I was safe, or because she was happy she could finally go home. Taking care of three young children can wear out even the most saintly among us, and in my book she was pure saint. Having inherited the enviable metabolism of my aunt who once modelled for the Sears catalogue, her petite figure never showed her love for all things sweet. She wore jeans and a sweatshirt that read “I heart Snoopy.” Her hair, which once upon a time had been black, was now mostly blue and pulled back in a pony. Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know why I was worried about you, but I was. I just had this awful feeling you were in danger.”
Oh poop. I forgot how perceptive Jillian could be. I put up my hand. “Don’t be silly. What could happen to me in Sunset Cove?” I gave her a reassuring smile that almost broke my face.
“Well, you know the stories about the teahouse.”
“Oh, yeah. I sure do.” I laughed. “I spread them. They’re good for business.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Uh-huh,” was all she said.
“Do I smell pancakes?” I asked, though of course I couldn’t.
Jonathan and Jinx instantly released me. Pancakes were a staple in our home, served any time of day smothered with butter and maple syrup. Well, okay, fake maple syrup, but that would change soon. No one ever tired of pancakes in our home. I picked up Janey and carried her on my hip to the kitchen. “I think we need pancakes.”
Jillian hovered as I pulled out the big mixing bowl. “Why won’t you tell me why you’re so late coming home?” She handed me a measuring cup.
“Nothing but good news to tell, Jills.”
Her eyes widened.
“I solved my first case as a detective.”
“You what?”
“Yup. You know how I told you that Charisma Dubois wanted me to find her diamonds in Graystone Manor.”
“And it’s haunted too.”
“Nah, there’s no ghosts there, or at least not anymore. She was just scared of cobwebs. Anyway, I found them.”
“The diamonds?”
I nodded.
“Congratulations. What do you mean not anymore? Did you do something to the ghosts?”
“Well, not exactly, and it doesn’t matter. Let me tell you the story. The manor is safe now and . . . you’re not going to believe the best part.”
She plopped the milk on the counter beside me. “What?”
“I got paid.”
“Well, sweetie, that’s how the world works you know. You do a job and you get paid.”
“Yeah, yeah. But I got really well paid.”
“How well? Are we talking steaks for dinner?”
I blinked. That would be nice. “No. I’m talking a new home.”
“Holy tomolley! Seriously? You must have done a really good job. Oh, Abby, you finally got some good luck.” She did her happy dance again. Truly something to behold with her arms flailing.
Eric, biting back laughter, turned a shade of pink I had never seen him turn before. He waved and vanished, but as he left a trickle of his laughter stayed in the room. I knew he would return later after Jillian went home. He liked hanging out with us. Heck, he was part of this family.
Jillian’s thinly threaded brows rose in her forehead. “Did you hear that?”
“I’m taking a nap. All this noise is exhausting,” said Spark, pulling my ear for attention.
I shook my head as I bit the inside of my mouth so I wouldn’t laugh. If Jill only knew! Part of me wanted to tell her about my Viking lover, our night of unbridled sex, and my new-found magic, but those were things I would never share with her. Even saints can take only so much reality. As soon as I thought I could speak again without laughing, I said, “We don’t have to go looking for a house. I have the key to one.”
She blinked. “A key?”
“To Gravestone—I mean Graystone—manor. It’s ours now.”
“What? She gave you the manor?”
“It’s more like an estate. It’s got land. Like major land, not just enough for a few flowers, but enough for a vegetable garden and . . .”
“A dog. Can we have a dog?” Jonathan had not missed a word.
“Uh, maybe.” The memory of the hound chorus came to my mind. “Yeah, maybe that would be a good idea, but first things first. Let’s break out the maple syrup.”
34
The search for the two missing draugrs continued in town and the surrounding area, but hours turned into days and there had been no sign of them. Azalea figured they must have taken off for parts unknown. Leroy drew up a schedule with Zane so constant patrols protected the cove.
I started cleaning the manor and discovered it was twice as dirty as I expected. I would started by focusing on the main floor. The rest could be attacked later. I could have used magic, I suppose, but I didn’t. It was just too weird. Not to mention unpredictable. Who knows what I could turn into next?
The appearing and disappearing act of the diamonds worried me, but Ms. Dubois didn’t call, so I figured things had turned out all right. The manor appeared ghostless, but there was a residual magic in the air that I couldn’t put my finger on. I could worry that it would come alive, but I could worry about a lot of things. The house was ours and it was time to move in.
A week later I packed the kids and boxes into Jillian’s “Live or Dye” van, and we headed to our new home, Graystone Manor. The kids were excited because I was, but didn’t really understand much of what was going on. I love that about kids. They don’t understand property and owning and money. They only understand the important stuff, like love.
As I helped them all out of the van the howls of the hounds from hell started up, but they no longer bothered me. Well, at least not as much as they once did. The hair on the nape of my neck did a quick
stand at attention and then relaxed. The mutts could howl all they liked, as long as I didn’t have to see them. Eric had checked them out for me. It turned out the noise was made by two old junkyard dogs. How two could sound like two-hundred I’d never know.
“I want a dog,” said Jonathan.
“They have fleas,” I said and they were a lot of work I didn’t need.
Spark pulled my ear. “It might not be such a bad idea. The manor is friggen big and a dog could help us.”
She had a point. Being in the detective business could draw trouble. Not to mention the craziness of the supernatural world I was becoming more and more a part of. As if on cue, one last, long howl, that I swear could raise the dead with its unearthly hollowness, sounded.
“We’ll see,” I said to Jonathan.
A note tied with a red ribbon was attached to the front door. I opened it. In a beautiful, old-fashioned lettering it read: “Congratulations on your new home. We left a housewarming gift in the backyard.” Signed Azalea, Joy and Zane.
With Jinx in my arms we headed out back and there sat a beautiful swing set with a slide, and beside it a trampoline. Perfect for my motley crew. Jonathan squealed and ran for the tramp with Jinx at his heels. Sitting on one of the two swings, Eric looked ridiculously out of place, as only an old Viking with his sexy butt squished into a children’s plastic swing could. Yet, he fit the family scene. He so fit into my life and our family. That warm gushy feeling flooded my senses. I hadn’t seen him for days. He said he had business to attend to. Having him home made the sun shine brighter.
But a twinge of guilt doused my joy. I hadn’t told him everything yet. I couldn’t avoid the topic forever. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to spend time with him. I did. I do. But, this magic thing . . .”
“Hey, Abs, don’t call me a thing. I’m not a thing,” said Spark inside my head.
“Oh, shush.”
“Shush yourself. You know I get all your thoughts. Right? Over and over again like an endless memo loop. I get your thoughts. Man-o-man, you love that big, bad-boy. And besides all that lovey-dovey crap, he’s awesome in the hay, so stop being stupid and go to him.”
Midnight Magic (A Ghost & Abby Mystery Book 1) Page 15
