by Amy Boyles
“I’m late, too. Just got out of the shower. Toweling off my hair right now.”
Total lie. I’d been up since five a.m. and had this new flat iron that worked on wet hair, so I was able to cut my get-ready time in, like, half, which was super awesome.
But I couldn’t tell Kate any of that ’cause it would make her feel bad.
Gabby tugged on my leggings. I stared down at her. She was dressed in a sweet little orange gown that had a pumpkin sewn onto the bottom hem. She clutched a cloth dolly in one hand and a fistful of my clothes in the other. “Mommy, go to school.”
“Yes,” I whispered. “But right now I have to talk Aunt Kate down from the cliff.”
“I heard that,” she said. “I’m not that bad.” Pause. “Am I that bad?”
“Of course not. Listen,” I cooed. “Breathe. Get dressed. You’ll be fine.”
“I can’t be late. If I’m late again, Givens said she’d fire me.”
Seriously. If panic were contagious over phones, I would’ve caught Kate’s disease.
Not really.
I scoffed. “Givens isn’t going to fire you. I’ll stall her. How’s that?”
“Thank goodness,” she said. “I think it’s my biological clock that’s the problem. I’m thirty-five, unmarried, no children and hormonal. Do you think it’s also messing with my regular internal clock? I used to wake up when my alarm went off; now I just can’t seem to get out of bed.”
I sniffled a laugh. “Sure. Biological clock. That’s it. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you stay up till one in the morning on social media.”
Kate paused. “Why do you always have to be honest with me? For once, can’t you lie?”
I clicked my tongue. “Okay. You’re exhausted because your biological clock wants babies, and until you get them, you’ll be chronically tired.”
“I knew it!”
“I’ll stall Givens, but I’ve gotta scat or else I’ll be up a creek, too.”
She sighed. “I owe you one, Andie.”
“That’s what best friends are for.”
I thumbed my cell phone off and scooped Gabby into my arms. “Okay, kid. Let’s go to school.”
I grabbed all the essentials for the day: diapers, wipes, tissue, cookies, milk, juice—oh, and lipstick. Couldn’t live without that.
With one hand I uncapped the top and spread it over my lips. Yes, I did it without looking. Then I decided I probably needed to make sure I didn’t look like a clown, so I drifted to the hallway mirror.
My blonde hair hung in curls over my shoulders. The slash of bangs cutting over my brown eyes was perfectly in place, and my lipstick looked great. I smiled. Was there something black in my teeth? I wedged a speck of pepper from my canine and smacked my lips. Perfect.
Then I noticed it. A spot on my brand-new boutique chic cinnamon-colored blouse—probably snot or milk, or maybe a combination of the two.
“Dang it.” I plopped Gabby back down on the floor.
I snarled at the dark blob. No time to clean it. I snatched a scarf from a chair and wrapped it over my neck, effectively hiding said mysterious stain.
I toed on a pair of ankle boots and decided I looked as perfectly put together as possible. I glanced down at my little girl with her headful of amber curls. The smile on her mouth washed up to her beautiful golden eyes.
“You ready?” I said.
“Ready, Mommy.”
“You’ve got a Halloween party at school today. You excited?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Let’s go, Mommy.”
Vordrid had apparently stayed up late thinking about that comet, because he was nowhere to be seen. I skipped over wishing him a great day and made to leave.
I shouldered my purse and flung open the front door. Standing on the steps was a short, squat man with a thick, bushy chestnut mustache. At five-three, I’m short, and I could see the top of his balding head. Wisps of matching chestnut hair were combed over his chromed pate as if he was trying to keep it from getting sunburned.
I know the most logical explanation is that he didn’t want people to figure out he was going bald. But let’s face it, when you’ve got more scalp than hair, it’s pretty obvious what’s going on.
He glanced around nervously as he stepped onto my porch.
“Yes, sir? Can I help you?” I said.
“I don’t know. I’ve heard you can.” He patted his trench coat and dug in the pockets until he fished out a crumpled sheet of paper. He fisted it and shoved it in my face.
“Is this you?” he said, pointing to the sheet.
Every hair on my body froze to attention. My heart slammed against my rib cage like it had blown a gasket.
I swallowed down a lump of fear and pretended to inspect the page. “Nope. Not me.”
He glanced from the paper to me. “It looks like you.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, trying to sound as respectful and Southern as I could so that he’d take the blow better. “A lot of folks look like that. It’s not me.” I shooed him back and locked the door. I pretended to be interested again. “Let me see that.” He handed me the sheet. “What is it you need?”
He balled his hands as tears sprang to his eyes. “Please. It’s my daughter. She’s been missing for a few days. I need help finding her.”
“Call the police. That’s what they’re for.” I brushed past him and headed to my car. A row of unplanted mums sat in my yard. I made a mental note to finally get around to planting them that afternoon, once I thanked the young janitor at school, Justin, for dropping them off.
He was a nice kid, had a thing for flowers, so he’d brought me a few as a thank-you for helping him with a college application.
The man moaned. “I did call the police, but she’s eighteen. They can’t help. You’re who I need. I need a hunter.”
I stopped. My back stiffened, and I hugged Gabby to my chest in vise grip. I slowly turned, keeping my eyes narrowed and my jaw clenched.
“Sir, like I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, I’m going to be late for my preschool class. I suggest you call the police if your daughter is missing.”
“Please, I know you can help me.”
I unlocked the door, buckled Gabby inside and got in. When I pulled away, the man was still standing exactly where I left him, only he stared down at his hand, glanced up at me and scowled.
Oops, I guess I happened to snatch his little piece of paper. When I hit the first stop sign, my gaze flickered to the flyer.
HUNTERS FOR HIRE
SPECIALIZING IN THE MAGICAL, THE MYSTERIOUS AND THE UNKNOWN
NO MYSTERY IS TOO SMALL FOR US!
I glanced at the picture below the caption. There I was—a younger, trimmer version of myself. I estimated the flyer was about five years old, when Dex and I had been doing some freelance work.
My gaze drifted on. To my left stood Dex. A quiver ran through my soul. I stared at the blue eyes that had snatched my breath when I first peered into them fourteen years ago, when I was eighteen and had just entered hunter school.
A horn honked behind me. I jolted from my trance, throwing a hand up in an apologetic wave. I mashed the gas, and we took off.
I hit Main Street at rush hour, which meant I idled behind five cars as I waited for the green light at Briarcrest, where Gabby attended preschool in the Giving Trunk division, and where I also happened to teach.
I noted a line of news trucks heading in the opposite direction, probably going off to check out the comet that wasn’t—at least according to Vordrid.
My opinion on the whole thing was that I didn’t care. If it didn’t affect me or Gabby, then it didn’t matter.
I whipped into a parking spot beside the brick two-story building. Briarcrest held all grades of classes up until twelfth. It was small, with the preschool sort of its own entity. We had our own director and everything. It was a great place to work, and I loved having Gabby close by.
Life was perfect. The town was pe
rfect with its little corn husks tied to the streetlamps to welcome fall and Halloween. The barbershop’s red, white and blue sign whirled; the coffee shop buzzed with morning activity. I mean, it was probably the caffeine buzz causing folks to gather on the curb and talk about all things coffee, right?
Right. Folks gather and talk about coffee. Then I realized they were probably talking about the comet. That was big news. Huge news.
Dang it! Dot and that guy with his stupid flyer were getting to me, making me paranoid.
Anyway, life in Normal was normal, and that was the most important thing.
Except for that bald guy and that flyer.
How the heck had he gotten it?
I blew out a huge stream of air and decided it wasn’t worth thinking about. I needed to focus on the now. Not the past.
I sighed. “Life in Normal is great, Gabby.”
“Great, Mommy.”
I stepped outside.
The air surged with what felt like an electrical current. A brisk breeze sliced through my shirt. I paused, unsure if it was autumn causing the wash of goose bumps over my arms or if it was something else.
I shook off the feeling that something wasn’t right and unstrapped Gabby from her car seat in the back.
Two minutes later I deposited my preschooler in class. Gabby toddled straight for a dollhouse where another classmate was playing. A boy in class was playing with a ball. Before the teacher noticed, he threw it straight for a little girl’s head.
Without thinking, my hand shot out, catching it.
“Wow, those are some reflexes,” Gabby’s teacher said.
“Ha-ha. Yeah,” I said, shrugging it off. But I had reacted fast. Faster than most people would. “No big deal,” I said.
Gabby’s teacher just kinda stared at me as if I were an unnatural phenomenon—like that stupid comet.
I left, heading to Miss Givens’s office. I collided with her as she was about to head out on her morning rounds.
Miss Givens was a miss for a reason. She always wore black, her hair looked like steel wool, and her personality was like that of a porcupine’s quills—all sharp, and, well, sharp. To the teachers, anyway. With the kids Givens was warm and cuddly.
Only two things were colorful about Miss Givens—one was her red lipstick, which I was pretty sure happened to be tattooed on. I didn’t know if you could do that, but if you could, Givens had done it because it was never smudged and it was never missing. And I mean never. Like, who can do that?
Only someone who’s had expert application, if you ask me.
Not that you did.
But I’m telling you anyway, ’cause that’s just how I am.
The other colorful thing about Givens was her cherry-red horn-rimmed glasses with rhinestones on the sides. The woman was nothing if not reliable in choice of palette—black and red. I secretly referred to her as Miss Ladybug.
Gabby thought it was funny, and that was all that mattered.
“Andie Taylor, you usually avoid me like the plague. To what do I owe the honor of a morning visit?”
Miss Givens was also about as dramatic as Kate, just in an entirely different way.
“Now, Miss Givens, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You are absolutely my most favorite boss ever.”
She scowled. Fine smoker’s lines rimmed her lips. “Now, I know something’s going on. Is Kate late again?”
I swatted the air. “No, of course not. Why would she be late?”
She adjusted her glasses. “I know you two are friends, but you can’t keep covering for her.”
I raised my hands innocently. “Like I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I came for an entirely different reason. By the way, did you see that comet last night?”
Givens peered over her glasses and scowled. “Of course I did. The entire town’s talking about it. Saw on the news this morning that none of the meteor was left when it crashed outside of town. It got destroyed when it hit the ground.”
Givens cocked a perfectly penciled brow. “And what’s the reason you’re here in my office instead of corralling your classroom?”
Holy crap, I didn’t have a lie ready. What would put her in a tizzy but also be completely realistic and an absolute calamity?
“Four-year-olds can take care of themselves,” I joked. “Just the other day I saw one brush a dolly’s hair while using the potty.”
Her iron gaze made me wither. “They can’t take care of themselves.”
Time to think faster than fast.
I clicked my tongue and sighed dramatically. “We’re out of candy corn.”
Givens leaned forward. “What?”
“For the fall festival today.” I slapped my head. “It’s horrible. I told one of the children and he attempted to bite me, he was so ravenous for the stuff. I think it’s baby crack.”
Her eyebrow shot up about three feet. “Really?”
I sagged my shoulders. “Okay, so maybe he didn’t try to go all carnivore on me, but we are out of candy corn and the kids expect it and it’s kind of a big deal with the parent’s association. I’m pretty sure they donated a three-pound bag. We can’t find it.”
Givens scoffed because I was an idiot and she was the supreme leader of all things preschool.
Which I liked to let her believe.
“There’s some in the supply closet.” She pulled a ring of keys from her waist and walked past me into the hall. “How many times do I have to tell you that when we are low on supplies, look in the closet first? Honestly, sometimes I feel like a broken record.”
Missy Burke was not only the town crier, but also a teacher at my school. Lucky me. She was a pert brunette with a rack that started at her neck. Without the wind blowing her dark hair, she looked less like Medusa and more like a human being. The town gossip leaned on the doorway of the two-year-old classroom. “I’m not surprised Andie forgot, Miss Givens. She doesn’t remember half the things you tell us,” she said.
Givens shot her a look. “And I expect you to be teaching the color chartreuse this week, Miss Burke.”
Missy swiped a finger along the edge of her mouth. “I’ll get right on it. What color is that again?”
Givens ignored her. We reached the closet, and she fixed a key in the hole. The tumblers turned, and the lock clicked with a snick.
“Now,” Givens said. “We have a huge bag of candy corn right inside, as well as other decorations you might need to make the festival go over well with the parents.”
She turned the knob and swung the door open. Givens threw her hands up and screamed as something tumbled on top of her.
Without thinking, I lunged forward and grabbed the object, swinging it away from the principal and launching it onto the floor. It slumped to the ground like a deflating jack-in-the-box.
I blinked. I wasn’t sure I was seeing correctly, so I blinked again.
Yep, I sure was.
Lying on the floor was Justin Jehoshaphat, the janitor I’d helped with the college applications and who had given me the mums.
“Oh my gosh,” Givens cried. She ran toward Justin and blocked anyone else from coming near. “He’s dead. Cold and dead!”
Her hand slid over his neck. From my vantage point I noticed two small puncture wounds. I stepped forward, trying to get a closer look, but Givens shooed me away.
There was only one creature that punctured its victims—a vampire.
Great. Normal, Alabama, was about to be anything from normal.
And I was going to have to dust off my hunting skills.
THREE
THREE
“What’s happened once must never happen again. What’s happened twice will probably happen three times, but not necessarily. But it could happen, so keep your eyes open.”
—The Witch’s Handbook
* * *
Needless to say, the fall festival got canceled. Givens dismissed school for the day right as Kate appeared.
My best friend had a cloud
of black curls to die for. She hated them, of course, but pair those with her dazzling blue eyes and almost every single man in Normal should’ve been lining up to date her.
It was probably all her talk about biological clocks that turned them off.
“What happened?” Kate said breathlessly.
I grimaced, not sure how to tell her. “Janitor Justin was found dead.”
She clutched her face. “No! How?”
I fluffed out my curls. “I don’t know. Givens said he had some sort of heart condition.”
Kate grimaced. “So they think it was maybe a heart attack? He was so young.” She tapped an orange shellacked nail to her lips. “I once heard of a young guy playing football who collapsed while he was running toward the end zone about to make a touchdown. So sad.” She shivered. “Justin was probably like that guy, only he was mopping up some pee or something and the strain did him in.”
Call her nothing if not imaginative.
I nodded. “Maybe.” I hadn’t had a chance to get close to the body after Givens declared him dead. She had hovered over him like a banshee and said we needed to cover him before anyone became traumatized at seeing him dead.
Though I was pretty sure Givens was the one who was traumatized.
“What are you doing?” Kate said.
I scooped up Gabby from a knot of children playing with a train set. “I’m going home. Not a lot of kids had been dropped off yet, so a few other teachers are staying until the parents come to get them.”
Kate clutched my arm. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. “Of course. I’m fine. It’s just been a strange day.”
My best friend hugged her arms. “Call me later, okay?”
“I will.” I flashed her my biggest smile. “And I’ll be around if you need me.”
“Thanks,” she said.
As soon as I got in the car, the first thing I saw was that stupid flyer. I crumpled it up and tossed it onto the floorboard.
“What the heck is going on today?” I snarled.
I got Gabby home, plopped her down in front of the TV and changed into a pair of jeans. I made a cup of coffee with hands that were shaking, trembling like a freaking flower in a breeze.
