spies and spells 02 - betting off dead

by Kappes, Tonya

  Out of nowhere the outside wall of the stall busted wide open and Vinnie came barreling through missing Rails and Nails, but knocking Joel, Riley, and Joan on the dirt floor.

  “What in the world?” Mick stood at the barn door with a group of agents standing behind him with their weapons drawn.

  I shrugged as heat crept up my cheeks. I could feel I was red faced.

  They swept the place and handcuffed Riley Tucker, Joel Byrd, but not Joan Kirkpatrick.

  “Mom?” Riley’s jaw dropped before she narrowed her eyes. “You ratted out your own daughter?”

  “I just couldn’t go along with you trying to fix the biggest sport in Kentucky and then after you pulled it off, watch you leave your husband or worse, kill him or anyone else in your way.”

  “So, she’s the secret informant?” I asked Mick. He nodded. Joan had gone to SKUL when she’d found out what her daughter was up to.

  “How did you know I was in here?” I asked Mick. I’d yet to catch my breath from the gun being pointed at me. Regardless, I probably could’ve gotten myself out of the situation.

  “I had a hunch that I needed to look at the trailer because in the report, there was a mold of a specific trailer tire taken from the tracks left behind the barn at the Byrds’. The trailer here had the same tires and I came inside to get us out of here so I could call Burt to get back up. I looked everywhere for you and from the balcony, I saw you peeking in the window.” He looked down at me. I held my breath because I knew what was coming. “You want to tell me how your car just so happened to drive itself into the wall of the barn and save you?”

  “It’s an old car.” I smiled and shuffled my feet.

  “And that’s what—” he started to say.

  “What I’m going with?” I finished his sentence and nodded. “Yeah.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The house smelled like pumpkin pie and pumpkin bread. ’Tis the season even though Mom had started to make our house look and feel just like Christmas. Nearly every inch of the house was decked out in green or red: real holly in Christmas green, poinsettia plants in vibrant reds, and real pine trees that were decked out in twinkling white lights. She’s even gone as far as switching out some of the paintings on the wall to Santa paintings as well as snowy landscapes. It was something to see.

  Auntie Meme walked into the kitchen dressed in an elf outfit, complete with pointy elf shoes.

  “What are you doing?” I spread a pat of butter on the warm slice of pumpkin bread and watched as it disappeared into the nooks and crannies. My mouth watered.

  “You never can tell what is lurking.” She rolled her wrists in front of her. “The Spell Circle is coming by to make sure there is all positive energy around the house tour and as mortals come in and out of our home, they enjoy the decorations but not look past the decorations. If you know what I mean.”

  “I do.” I shook my head.

  “You will be back at the diner in the morning?” she asked.

  “I will and am looking forward to it.” It was nice to be able to do my life’s journey in helping SKUL, but it was really great to get back to the diner and hang out with Auntie Meme. As much as she drove me nuts, I did miss her and working near her.

  “Me too. That Sherry, she’s not cut out to do any sort of labor.” Auntie was a good sport. “Since I’m your Guardian, I was pleased to help out.”

  “Thank you.” I walked over and gave her a big hug.

  The knock at the door interrupted our embrace.

  “I’m going up to my room to take a nap, I’ll let them in,” I called over my shoulder on my way down the hall to the front door. Working with SKUL wore me out and I still hadn’t recovered from nearly getting blown up or having a gun pointed at me. “Abracadabra,” I joked and swung the door open. “Mick!”

  Mick Jasper was standing on the other side of the door, not the Spell Circle. Surprise flashed across my face, excitement built in my gut.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked with the door pulled close to my body. There was no way I was going to be able to let him in and see that Christmas had thrown up all over our house. . .in October.

  “I told Burt I’d drop off your check for your services.” He held out an envelope.

  “That was kind of you,” I reached out to grab it, but pulled back when Pixie pushed her way between us and knocked open the door.

  Flora, Charmary and Glinda were on her heels.

  “What the?” Mick pointed to each of them. Pixie, Flora and Glinda had on the elf outfit like Auntie Meme, but Charmary was dressed in a Santa outfit, complete with a real white beard. His eyes passed across my shoulder. His mouth opened, closed, opened, and then closed as if the words were wedged in his throat.

  “Book club.” I shrugged.

  “Let me guess.” He sucked in a deep breath. “They are reading The Night Before Christmas.”

  “Something like that.” The twinkle of the moonlight caught in his eyes as he looked at me. My heart fluttered. I couldn’t help but wonder where my life’s journey with SKUL was next going to be, but I did have a gut feeling that Mick Jasper was going to be involved. “Something like that,” I repeated.

  “That’s what you’re going with?” He couldn’t contain his smile any longer. He beamed.

  THE END

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Spies and Spells and how Mick and Maggie became crime fighting partners.

  Chapter One excerpt of Spies and Spells

  Rowl! The soft, pink paw tapped my nose a couple of times before the old cat gave me the ole one-two punch. His midnight fur helped him blend in with the unlit room.

  “Stop, Riule,” I groaned, batting my mom’s familiar feline away from me and jerked the pillow over my head. “Tell her I’m up.” My voice muffled from underneath the pillow.

  Rowl! The damn cat took a couple of more swipes at my hands gripping the pillow across my face.

  I took the pillow off my face and sucked in a deep breath when I heard the paws of Riule’s feet dance across my bedroom hardwood floors and out the door. Outside, the early morning breeze caused the leaves on the tree beyond my window to move around, directing the sun’s rays to trickle through my blinds and dancing along my ceiling. It was a habitual morning dance between the two, which let me know I was going to be late for work if I didn’t get my lazy hinny out of bed.

  Same shit. Day in, day out. I got up, got ready, went to work, came home, ate dinner, and went to bed. Sometimes that routine included a social visit with Lilith, my sister, but definitely not a regular basis, as she too had the same schedule as me. Only she got up a couple hours earlier to go to work. Lilith worked the early shift at The Brew, our family diner that was only open for breakfast and lunch.

  At twenty-eight, I still hadn’t found my life’s journey. No. We, my family, did not call it our ambition in life. In fact, we didn’t grow up like mortal children, going to school and figuring out that we wanted to be: a teacher, doctor, lawyer or whatever. We had what was called the Witchy Hour. It was the hour on which we stumbled into our life’s journey.

  There wasn’t much I could say about the Witchy Hour, because I had not had mine, therefore, I got up every morning and worked at the diner. Clearing dishes, taking orders and delivering food could not be my journey. I knew it in my soul.

  My family was witches. Modern day, every day, normal looking kind of people. Only witches. Witches who made sure we blended into the area where we lived.

  Historic Old Louisville, Kentucky, on Belgravia Court to be exact. The area was a very artsy area where a lot of hipsters hung out in the local eateries and bars.

  The city was not too big or too small, allowing us to more easily fit in. And so, at age twenty-eight, I worked in our family’s dinner, The Brew, until I was hit with my life’s journey.

  I had heard, as well as seen, witches in their journey. Take my mother, for instance, who Lilith and I still lived with along with my Great Auntie Meme along with all of our familiars. Ye
s, witches did have familiars. Only mine happened to be my car, Vinnie. Riule, the ornery cat, happens to be my mother’s, who, by the way, was doing her dirty work this morning. Gilbert, the macaw, was Lilith’s familiar and Ms. Kitty, an owl, was Auntie’s.

  I was the only one with a non-animal familiar, which spoke volumes to how I had led my life. I had been on a mission to find my life’s journey. My job. And get out from underneath my family’s home.

  At times I had even wondered if Mom or Auntie Meme had put a spell on me so I would not find my journey, and so they’d have to keep me here. On Belgravia Court.

  I pushed back my long black hair away from my eyes, peeling a few strands away from my cheek where it had been glued from nighttime drool, something I wasn’t proud of, and pushed the quilt off me. If I didn’t make some sort of movement, the one-hundred-year-old historic home wouldn’t creak from under my feet and Riule would be sent back up to see what I was up to. Then smugly running back downstairs to Mom, giving her the lowdown on my laziness. They didn’t realize that if I had my life’s journey, I would be happy to get up every morning and go do it, just like Mom and Auntie Meme.

  “What to wear?” I asked.

  Growls and barks were coming from outside my front bedroom window. I made my way over and pulled back the curtain to see what all of the ruckus was about, hoping Riule hadn’t gotten Mrs. Hubbard’s yappy dog all stirred up.

  Mrs. Hubbard was the old lady who lived in the house across from us. She bent over her flower boxes that were sitting on the brick ledge of her front porch fussing with her plastic Patagonia flower she had wired together with bread ties. She had one end of the plastic bouquet while King, the yappy Yorkie, had the other end in his mouth. King looked like he was playing. Mrs. Hubbard looked like she was not. The two played tug-of-war until King won out, rushing off the porch and under her row of hedges that lined the front of her home.

  Mrs. Hubbard stood five foot with grey hair that hung down past her ears, parted to the left side, with side bangs. Mrs. Hubbard was never without her pearl earrings, pearl necklace and a cardigan. She must’ve had stock in pleated black slacks because it was the only color, or style, of pants she ever wore. Today her choice of cardigan happened to be hot pink, making her crazy stand out even more.

  As though she knew I was watching her, she looked up and gave a slight wave. I waved back, but not quick enough to pull back and avoid her gesture to have me open my window.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Hubbard.” I tried to be as pleasant as I could at seven in the morning. I pushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “How are you?”

  Ruf, ruf, ruf. King had emerged from the hedges and went from attacking the flowers to attacking the air and space between the two of us. I glared at the scrawny, wiry spit fire wondering if I could just send him up in flames, right there in front of Mrs. Hubbard. No one on Belgravia Court liked the yappy dog.

  “Fair to middlin’. Fair to middlin’,” she repeated shaking her head and pointing at the fake garden. “I’m trying to bring home the blue.” Her eyes slid over to the front of our home where Mom took a lot of pride in her landscape and gardening.

  The blue Mrs. Hubbard referred to was the annual Historic Old Louisville Hidden Treasure Garden Tour that was taken very seriously by the residents on Belgravia Court. Mrs. Hubbard being one of them. Little did they know Mom was a witch and her specialty was all things earth. She was kind of like Mother Nature, only in witch form and she also grew the best herbs for potions, which Auntie Meme liked to use on customers at The Brew.

  “I need another bread tie. It looks like the coons got my flowers. I’m going to give those coons a knuckle sandwich,” Mrs. Hubbard said in a silvery tone. She shook her thin fist in the air.

  I smiled. Mrs. Hubbard was the queen of what I called southernisms. Most of the time I didn’t even understand what she was talking about. I wanted to tell her she wasn’t going to bring home the blue with plastic flowers but there was no telling her that unless I wanted a good cussing.

  “You know.” She squinted up at my window. “I’ve never seen y’all have any sort of rodents over there.” Her brows furrowed. “What’s your secret?”

  And there she went.

  Mrs. Hubbard was nosy and she and Auntie Meme had had a few words right there in the courtyard in front of everyone. Auntie Meme told her to mind her own business, only her exact words were my business isn’t your business and unless you’re my panties don’t be up my ass.

  Mrs. Hubbard was as mad as a wet hen but it didn’t stop her from still being nosy.

  “There’s no secret.” There was. Auntie Meme put a rodent spell on Mrs. Hubbard’s house sending every rodent on Belgravia Court over there. The Orkin man was a fixture over there.

  Susie Brown, our other neighbor and Belgravia Court’s neighborhood watch president, even started a rumor that Mrs. Hubbard and the Orkin man were having a fling. Only we knew the truth and we never gave into gossip. In fact, the women loved to meet up in the courtyard on Saturday nights with their fancy cocktails and catch up on the gossip on Belgravia Court. The Park family—my family—were always a topic of interest because we spent much of our time to ourselves. Well, not Auntie Meme. She spent a lot of time looking out the front window wondering what type of spell she could send Mrs. Hubbard’s way. When she’d get down to the nitty-gritty of a spell, Mom wouldn’t let her send it. Auntie Meme fussed that Mom let her make the spell, why not let her send it. Mom let Auntie Meme concoct the spells so she wouldn’t have to entertain my feisty auntie.

  Still, the neighbors loved to gossip about us. Much was speculation, but still, they lived on speculation.

  “I’m getting ready to go to work. I’ll see if we have any bread ties.” I politely waved, pushing the window back down. I pulled the cord of the blinds, zipping them up to the top of the window to let the sunlight fully in.

  I stomped over to my closet for good measure in case Mom was listening and opened the dark wood door. Everything in the house was dark and old. It was one of the things that drew Mom and Auntie to the Historic Old Louisville. The small suburb within the city held many secrets, like our family. It was old, like our family, and held comfort for Mom.

  From what Mom had told me and I had gathered, when we moved to Kentucky before I was born, the family started to become more and more engrained with mortals. We were a dying breed and it was fine with me since they never let me use the magic I held inside.

  Don’t put a spell on that. Clean the dishes, not with a swipe of your finger. Use the laundry machines, not a wave of your hand.

  But today I was going to be late and a wave of my hand might be what saved me from doing the dishes, the mortal way, in the diner.

  Just like that, I raised my arm, twirling my wrist three times ending in a snap. And just like that, I was dressed in a black long-sleeved turtleneck, black skinny jeans, and a pair of cheetah print loafers. My long black hair neatly slicked back into a ponytail and minimal makeup was perfect for the home-cooked meals I’d be serving.

  “Good morning.” I greeted my mom who was standing at the kitchen sink window picking some basil off the potted plant. I put my hands on both of her arms, giving her a little squeeze. “Thank you for sending in Riule,” my tone was sarcastic.

  Riule was sitting underneath the kitchen table with his leg thrown up in the air looking like the cover model on Cat Fancy magazine, his tongue stopped in mid-lick as his eyes bore into mine stopping for a second and then returning to cleaning himself.

  “It won’t be a good morning, good afternoon, or good night if you don’t get to work.” Mom’s eyes drew down on me. Her beautiful good looks caught me off guard. Her hair was long and black like mine. We had the same almond-shaped black eyes and oval face. She had high cheekbones like Lilith, while I had round ones that made me look younger than I really was. “Auntie Meme will work on a spell for you instead of Mrs. Hubbard.”

  Many times Mom and I had been in public when people had mistaken
her for my sister.

  “And,” her eyes slid down to my toes and up to my head. Her eyes stared at me. She had crow’s feet—the only facial sign she was older than me. “It seems like you got ready awfully fast.” Her cool tone was filled with I know you used magic.

  “Do we have any bread ties?” I grabbed the piece of wheat toast Mom had sitting on the counter. I closed my eyes and savored the first bite. She made the best buttered toast. There wasn’t a single grain left unbuttered. Mom made sure she spread the pat of butter to the edges, letting it seep in the warm toast.

  “Mrs. Hubbard?” Mom picked a few more leaves from the window garden and bundled them with a piece of cord she had already precut.

  “Yes,” I mumbled, stuffing the rest of the toast in my mouth.

  “In the drawer.” Mom waved her hand in a circular motion before uncurling her long lean finger toward the junk drawer.

  “In the drawer huh?” I questioned, pulling the junk drawer open knowing it was stuffed with pens, coupon circulars, and everything but bread ties. “Talk about magic.” I swiveled my eyes Mom’s way, questioning her little bit of magic. “And you accuse me of using magic.”

  I grabbed a fistful of ties, kissed my mom on the cheek and headed out of the kitchen toward the front of the house.

  “I’ll be right back,” I called over my shoulder and walked down the hallway, opening up the heavy wooden door to the courtyard.

  Belgravia Court was an odd place to live. There were two rows of houses opposite each other with a grassy courtyard down the middle. The front of the houses faced the courtyard. Each side had its own sidewalk with gas carriage lanterns lighting the way. Along the backs of our homes was an alley with each home having a detached garage.

  The houses were so close together, I couldn’t spit out my side bedroom window without hitting the neighbor’s house.

  Belgravia Court was a close-knit community with everyone in everyone else’s business. Not the Parks. We tried to stay on the down-low as much as possible. Given our heritage and all.