“I can hardly wait.”
She rummaged through the stack and held up another. DefiNette Investigations.
“Absolutely not.”
“Hmm.” She pulled one from the middle. “This is the one. I know it.” She flipped it over. ESPI Investigations.
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Get it? ESP and PI together? No? Okay, hold on.” She searched the deck frantically, brought out another card and held it to her chest. “Ready?”
“I’m breathless with anticipation.”
She flipped it over. Charmed Investigations.
“No.”
“No?” Her grin fell away.
Don’t be a dick, Deph. “No, but closer,” I encouraged.
“Wait! One more!” Fanning out the deck across the bed, fingers dancing, she searched for just the right card. She plucked one up and held it to her chest again. “Okay, I really like this one, but I’ll understand if you don’t—”
“Annette—”
“I was just warming you up with the others.” She turned the card over and read slowly. “Breadcrumbs, Inc.” She waited. Let it sink in. “What do you think?”
I thought it was perfect. A sad smile played across my lips as a garden of infinite possibilities blossomed inside me. Unfortunately, it would never happen. Yet, I couldn’t stop myself from admitting, “I kind of love it.” I also couldn’t stop disappointment from lacing my voice.
But she didn’t seem to pick up on it. “I knew it!”
“But why?”
“Because it’s catchy. And it’s like we follow the trail of—”
“No, why the business? Why now?”
“Because, unlike you, I am not a bazillionaire.”
I’d supposedly inherited a fortune from Ruthie. A lot of good it did me. “Are you broke?”
“Monetarily or emotionally?” Nette asked.
Alarmed, I walked back to the bed. “I can give—”
“No!” She held up her hand. “I would never just take money from you. I want to earn it. I want our business to work. And I don’t want any handouts. Although, I wouldn’t say no to a Brazilian. It’s been, like, six months.”
“Annette, you quit your job out of the blue and moved from Arizona to Massachusetts. You’ve done tons of research that will come in handy if we ever do open a business.”
“If?”
“You’ve helped watch over me for six months. My giving you money would be payment for services rendered, not charity.”
“There can’t be an if. There is nothing iffy about our futures.”
“Annette—”
“So, when do we start? My pizzaz. Your powers.”
My powers. The ones I couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—use. Not anymore. I turned back to the window.
Outside, brilliant fall colors covered Salem in bright oranges and golds. Green was still the dominant hue, but it wouldn’t be long before Salem looked afire.
“Dephne,” Annette prompted.
I had to be honest with her. Or make her believe I was being honest. She hadn’t seen what I saw. Felt the fear. She didn’t know what was waiting for me in the dark. What could sense my powers every time I used them. Feeling bad, but not bad enough to share the truth, I sighed softly and turned to face her. There was only one way out of this. “Annette, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I lost my powers.”
Blinking at me in disbelief, she got off the bed. Well, tried anyway. For, like, ten minutes. Groaning, she fought with her legs. When she finally uncrossed them, she glared at me. “Why did you let me sit like that?” Then she scooted across the mattress. But it was a really soft mattress and a really tall bed. In the end, she had to roll to the edge and throw her legs over the side. After a short adjustment period, she slid off the bed and straightened with another groan, using the bedpost for support.
I could’ve showered by now.
“Defiance, are you serious?” Taking on her best mom stance, she faced me down. “Your powers are gone?”
I nodded.
“You just lost them?”
I nodded again. The guilt over the lie caused a tiny stabbing pain in my heart.
“No.” She shook her head in denial. “No, that can’t be. You can’t just lose your powers. You’re a charmling. In order for you to lose your powers, you’d have to die. That’s what Ruthie said. So, there’s just no way.” Eyes full of shock and concern, she started pacing.
Percy matched her rhythm, parting the vines for her the way he had for me.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Is there another reason you want to get this business going that you’re not telling me about?”
“No.” Pausing halfway between the bed and the dresser, she lied through her teeth. “Not at all. Other than trying to get you back in the saddle after your staycay. Or is it back on the horse?” She looked up at the ceiling, lost in thought. “I know so little about equestrian idioms.”
“I’m not sure I want back in the saddle or back on the horse.”
Her head snapped toward me. “We have to get them back. Where did you see your powers last?”
“I didn’t take them off to do the dishes, if that’s what you mean.”
“Right. No. Of course not.”
“Okay, I’ll ask again, is there another reason you want to get this business up and going so soon?”
“What? No.” When I deadpanned her, she caved. “Well, yes. Lots actually.” She went to her bag, brought out a pocket folder, and crawled back onto the bed where she sat cross-legged exactly like before. The girl never learned. “These are from all the people who’ve called or come by in the last six months wanting your help.” She opened the folder and handfuls of messages fell onto the bed.
Handfuls! “Are you kidding?”
They’d been written on everything from store receipts to restaurant napkins. One was scrawled across a coaster from Notch Brewery and Biergarten. In Annette’s defense, some were torn out of a pre-printed message pad. Those looked very professional.
“Admittedly, some were just tourists wanting to get a look at you. Or your grandmother. Or Percy. It was hard to tell. But most of these are legit.”
“What about Ruthie? Where is she, anyway?” I looked around like she might beam in from the Enterprise or something. “She can do this stuff with her eyes closed.” She’d been helping people long before I came along.
“She won’t . . .” Annette shook her head. “She’s locked herself in her room and won’t come out. The chief is really upset. She won’t even see him.”
“What?” I sat back down. “Why?”
“Well, right before you slipped into a mystical coma, you brought her out of the veil and onto this plane and then asked her if she killed your mother.”
“We’ve already covered that part.”
“And she said yes.”
“We covered that too.”
“And then you flatlined. Metaphorically speaking.”
“Nette.”
“I think it took a toll on her. I think . . .” She bit her bottom lip. “I think she’s heartbroken.” She hedged a bit. “She could use a friend.”
When I’d come to Salem, at the request of a lawyer who’d told me I’d inherited this house, I’d met my dead grandmother, Ruthie Goode, on the internet. She’d somehow managed to communicate from beyond through WIFI. She’d helped me get my powers up and running so I could then use them to create a kind of shield around myself. For protection.
After that, I went to work on other powers, including how to reveal things that were hidden. That was how I’d revealed the writing in her Book of Shadows, her journal, and found out she’d killed my mother. “I’m not sure I’d be much of a friend to her right now.”
“Deph, come on.” That she had sympathy for what I was going through showed in her voice. “Your grandmother would never hurt her own daughter without a very good reason. Even if we don’t know what that reason is just yet. Surely you know that.”
/> I did. But I still needed a moment to process and get my bearings and plan my next move. Stalling, I went back to what Nette said earlier. “You said Ruthie locked herself in her room. This is her room.” I gestured toward the massive bedroom we were hanging in.
“Her arts and craft room in the basement. There’s more, but I’ll let her tell you. Or, well, show you.”
Since I wasn’t quite ready for more, I rerouted Nette’s train of thought. “Hey, how did you get all these messages? Exactly whose phone is ringing?”
“Oh, my God. You are not going to believe this.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Ruthie has a landline.”
Huh. I was expecting more. “You realize we all had landlines too, until a few years ago.”
“Yes, but actual people use this one. Not just telemarketers. It gets better reception due to all the paranormal activity pumping through the walls. I gotta warn you, though, I think the phone is older than your grandmother, and it rings loud enough to drown out the screams of your enemies. Should you ever need to make them scream.”
“Good to know.” I glanced down.
One of the messages on the bed had started to glow. Actually, it was the ink that glowed.
I pointed at it. “What is that?”
Annette picked it up. “Oh, this one was so sweet.” She put a hand over her heart. “A little girl lost her dog. She wants you to find him.”
“No.”
“Okaaaay . . . ?”
“No, I mean, that’s not what this is about.” I took it from her. Hot energy burned my fingertips, proving just how much I still did have my powers. I dropped the paper and wiped my hand on my gown like a toddler after eating spaghetti.
Thankfully, Annette was rummaging through some other messages and didn’t notice.
“What else did she say?” I asked.
“She said her mother told her about you. Said if she ever needed help to call you.” She reached over and picked it up again. “She was so worried, she forgot to leave a number. I barely managed to get her name.” She looked over at me, her gaze questioning. “Why?”
“It’s nothing. Just tear it up. Tear them all up.”
She didn’t. She put them back into the pocket folder and wrapped the elastic band around it.
The light from the message seeped out the corners.
“Some of these people are in real crisis. We have a chance to help them.”
“For a small processing fee.”
“Well, there is that. But is a doctor taking advantage of a patient when she sends him a bill?”
Couldn’t argue with that one. “I think your idea is great. I just . . . until I get my powers back, there’s nothing I can do.”
“Of course.” She gathered her things. “I have to get to work.”
“Work?” I asked, surprised.
“Yes. Like I said, I didn’t inherit a bazillion dollars. Some of us have to work for a living.” She started out the door. I almost ran after her, but she turned back to me before I had to lift a foot. “Just so you know, we weren’t the only ones watching over you.”
“Oh?” Each of her revelations were more disturbing than the last. I could only hope my hair had behaved during all of this.
“Ruthie’s coven. They’re all dying for an introduction. They’re so nice, Deph. Meeting you would be like me meeting Buddha. Or Jesus. Or Kurt Cobain.”
Wow. “Okay, well, maybe in a few days.” By then, I’d be outta here. So, so outta here. No way was I sticking around for what was to come. And neither was Nette. Or my dads. They just didn’t know it yet.
“Great, so—I almost forgot!” She put her bag back down and combed through it. “I bought you something.” She brought out a wooden box and ran it over to me.
“Really?”
“Yes. For when we open our business. It’s okay. I can take it back.”
I cradled it to me. “Let me see what it is first.”
She smiled in relief. “Okay.”
I lifted the dark wooden lid. Inside, lay a perfectly shaped crystal ball tucked into a blue satin lining with an iron pedestal. “Oh, my goodness. This is beautiful. I don’t think these really work though.”
“I figured, but it’ll make a great prop. You know, if we start Breadcrumbs, Inc.” She started to leave again, then turned back. “Then again, how do you know it won’t work if you don’t give it a shot?”
“Maybe, you know, if my powers come back.”
She nodded. “I got lots of stuff like that—a bible box, a spinning wheel, some tarot cards. And, according to the ads, they’re all authentic. They were really owned by witches.”
“Mm-hmm,” I said dubiously.
“’Kay, off to make coffee.”
“You make coffee for a living?” I was suddenly jealous.
“I do. I can’t wait to make you my famous pumpkin spiced cinnamon macchiato with vanilla bean whipped cream.”
A dam burst in my mouth at the thought. “Hey. Before you go, what did you tell Kyle, about me being . . . unavailable for so long?” My ex was a weasel. The marriage had lasted five years. The scars threatened to stay forever. No telling what he’d do if he found out I’d been a goner for six months. He and his mother had tried to snatch Percy from me after they’d already stolen everything else in the divorce. Stupid me for letting Kyle put everything, including my restaurant, in her name.
“Please.” Nette wrinkled her nose. “Why would I tell him anything?”
“I was just worried he’d snoop around. Maybe wonder where I was.” Panic over losing Percy welled up and overflowed.
“I wouldn’t stress about that. I think he and your monster-in-law—”
“Ex monster-in-law.” Thank God.
“Right. I they got the message loud and clear when the chief ran them out of town the first time.” Satisfied that she’d calmed my concern—or maybe she was just late for my dream job—she took off.
On my way to the bathroom to clean up, I took the scenic route through the kitchen and did a drive-by past the coffee maker for a scalding cup of brew that definitely wasn’t a pumpkin spiced cinnamon macchiato with vanilla bean whipped cream. Then I ran upstairs before anyone—and by anyone, I pretty much meant Roane—could see me.
There was nothing like a hot shower and a cup of coffee after a six-month nap. Feeling much refreshed with cleaner hair, I took the stairs to the basement and stopped in a small foyerlike area at the bottom.
I had my choice of three closed doors, one on each wall. It was like the game cups, except I knew what was underneath two of them already.
The one on the right led to Roane’s immaculate apartment. The one on the left led to Ruthie’s arts and craft room, though I hadn’t known she’d called it that until now. And her kind of arts and crafts involved anything but construction paper and glue sticks. Though the more I thought about it, witchcraft was more of an art than a science.
The door in front of me had been locked the last time I’d visited the dungeons. I had no idea what lay in wait behind it. I tested the antique lever handle again. Still locked. I felt a presence behind the door. Though I recognized it—its scent and texture—I couldn’t tell if it was friendly or malevolent, so I decided to leave it alone for now.
While I did need to apologize to the hottie next door, facing my murderous grandmother seemed like the more appealing option. Turning left, I stood in front of the portal to her humble abode. Could she even answer the door, with her being dead and all? And more important, did I want her to?
It took some heavy lifting, a little Lamaze breathing, and a lot of repressing, but I finally raised my hand and knocked.
Three
Not to brag or anything,
but I got the high score on my scale today.
-True Fact
Ruthie did answer the door, and she stood there as beautiful and ethereal as ever.
Judging by her expression, she was only a little surprised to see me. “Defiance,” she said, her voice hesitant. “You
woke up.”
“That’s the story.”
“They told me, of course, but I didn’t . . . I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.”
She read me like a tabloid. Could this be any more awkward? What did one say to the woman who killed her mother? Hey Gigi, how’s it hanging? Want to grab a latte? Although a latte sounded fab at the moment. With extra, extra whip. Damn Annette and her new job.
Ruthie touched her hair—a silver bob, perfectly coiffed—that didn’t quite reach her shoulders. That and her general disposition were the same as when I’d pulled her from the veil. But her dress was different. It wasn’t the cream-colored one she’d been wearing the whole time she’d been “stuck” in my laptop.
This dress was more like the gown I’d woken up in. Layers of soft ivory gauze with lettuce edges gave her a shabby-chic appearance any witch would be proud of. Even wrapped in faux-tattered clothes, she had the bearing and grace of royalty.
Then again, it could’ve been the soft luminescence that encompassed her.
After opening the door farther, she waved me inside and stepped back almost nervously, as if she expected me to decline the invitation.
Part of me wanted to. The other part walked in.
A huge variety of dried flowers and herbs hung from a low ceiling. Vintage jars of every shape and size sat atop dozens of shelves that lined the walls. But the thing that drew me the most, that had drawn me the first time I’d seen the room, was the lighting. Gas lamps hung every few feet, burning with a soft hiss that was hardly audible, unless you listened for it specifically.
“I’ve been doing research.” Ruthie walked over to a table scattered with books. She moved a cup of tea to the side and thumbed through one of the many ancient texts. “Contacting friends from all over. We’ve held circles and cast spells of protection and summoned your sisters.” Her hands shook. “I knew you’d be okay. I knew it.” She drew in a deep breath and turned away, hiding her face.
The cavity around my heart tightened. Not wanting to deal with that just yet, I stared at her for another reason. “You’re solid,” I said in confusion. She was definitely solid. Flesh and blood and those little capillary things. “But you kind of glow.” The glow was soft. Ethereal. Almost angelic. But just barely there. Not enough so anyone would notice outright.
Bewitched: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Betwixt & Between Book 2) Page 3
