There were two ways to handle it, depending on the situation. One was to request permission, if you were a warlock. That I didn’t need to read. The second was for me. I read with interest:
In the magical world, hierarchy is everything. In a witch family, the members usually work together toward a common goal. Therefore, bringing new family members in is an important transition, and how it is done matters a great deal. Respect for one’s elders is a bedrock of the enchanted community. Therefore when a witch begins dating a warlock, which is the ideal scenario, certain conventions must be observed.
Dating cannot take place casually. This could lead to chaos.
Instead, the relationship must be supervised. If one’s elders have made it that far, they must know something. Therefore, they must be brought into the discussion as early as possible. Usually, convention dictates that the witch must ask her father for permission after the third date. This assumes that she has found a partner on the road. Historically, her father and mother have found a date for her. Please skip to page 73 for information about that scenario. If the warlock parent already knows the warlock suitor, the situation obviously necessitates a different set of conventions. The initial phase is already underway, because one assumes that permission has been given for the warlock suitor to pursue the witch.
Yes, if in these modern times the warlock and the witch have found themselves together without the help of the warlock parent, these conventions must still be observed. If the warlock parent is unavailable to give his permission, then permission shifts over to the witch parent.
Obviously, there are various combinations that might take place. A warlock suitor could be without a warlock parent. The man does not need the permission that the woman does, but the warlock should still inform any living parent of his intentions. It is paramount that all of the parents meet and get along. At least, they must pretend to do so, like any good family.
The witch formally asks her mother if she may enter into an official enchanted relationship. The relationship must begin with a formal dinner. The mother can only make an informed choice about the suitability of the warlock suitor if dinner has been had with the entire family. If the mother does not approve, she is to say so as quickly as possible. She is given seventy-two hours to think it over. At the end of that time she must tell her daughter her decision.
If the mother grants her permission, then the warlock suitor and the witch may continue to see each other. At the end of the sixth date the warlock must present his now-girlfriend with an enchanted bracelet. He should also have an enchanted bracelet of his own, passed down from his family. These two bracelets make it clear that the witch and the warlock are bonded to one another. Thus the second phase of the relationship begins. Once the second phase is begun and they are an official couple, the warlock suitor is expected to take care of the witch. He must prove his understanding of supernatural work. If he has grown up in this world, that cannot be difficult.
….
I wanted to keep reading, but when Pep yelled for me to get going, I closed the little book, slipped it into my bag, and hurried toward the door. Just as I got there Rose reappeared.
“Busy eating?” I asked.
She glared up at me. “I think your grandmother enchanted this place. I haven’t seen a mouse in a very long time.”
“I wouldn’t put it past her. She doesn’t like cats. Or mice,” I said.
“It’s just silly. One deals with the other. Someone should tell her,” said Rose.
She followed me into the foyer, where my cousins were waiting. Lark had slipped on a black leather jacket and let her unruly red hair flow over her shoulders. In contrast, Pep had chosen a belt-edge jacket and looked prim and proper as usual. “Ready?” she asked.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I said
As we made our way to the one old car the family owned, I was relieved to see that for once Cookie was not at her cauldron. That was a bit strange, since her favorite thing to do was to sit out there and harass anyone who walked by. But the cauldron was bubbling away on its own.
On the short drive to the village, we discussed Audrey’s grocery list. As usual, she wanted us to pick up as many things as we could from the farmers market. She wanted to make a warming stew, so we were to get all the vegetables we could. Pep had warned her that we might not be back right away, since in Pep’s mind our main purpose was to go in search of decorations.
“Your mom found us. She said it was fine for us to go into town if we’re running errands for Audrey. She didn’t want us to be gone too long, though. She says we have to help with the haunted house later,” Lark said. “As if we didn’t know it.”
“I’m going to be in the gift shop,” said Pep. “I don’t really trust anyone else to do that.”
“Not even me?” Lark asked.
“Especially not you,” said Pep.
The farmers market was as busy as it always was, with all the usual suspects in evidence: the guy who sold apples, who had a crush on my mom; the town gossip; the chief of police and his wife. After living here for so many years, I recognized a lot of the faces. There were a couple of schoolteachers on break for lunch. There was Pep’s math tutor.
“Who are they?” Lark whispered, pointing to one side of the market. I followed her gaze and saw two men standing in a corner in front of a bakery stand. I had never seen them before.
I glanced at Lark and shrugged. They kind of looked like trouble if you wanted to judge someone by their looks. Both of them looked intense and secretive, and they kept glancing around as if they were looking out for someone or something. If anyone moved toward the bakery stall, they glared. I had a feeling that if someone got too close, all conversation between the men would cease. They weren’t talking to the baker, only to each other; the baker himself was at another stall chatting away with a friend.
In short, the two men looked very out of place amidst the crisp air and down to earth people of Shimmerfield.
“No idea. Maybe they’re coming to the haunted house later,” I said. “People do come from all over.”
Then we walked on and I forgot about them as we made our way around the farmers market, gathering everything Audrey had requested.
“That took too long,” said Pep, upset and fretting as we made our way back to the car. “We aren’t going to have time to look at the decorations.”
“That’s probably better anyhow,” said Lark. “We can come out tomorrow and look at them when we have more time.”
But Pep was having none of it. She gripped the steering wheel furiously as she drove us back to Haunted Bluff, muttering, “Who were those guys anyway?”
Lark and I exchanged looks. “We were wondering the same thing,” I told her.
Lark nodded and grinned in my direction. “This town is really going downhill since you came back,” she said.
“Tomorrow we should also check on the Root of All Evil. It’s been nearly a week since we went to look at that house. I want to make sure they’re still there and not causing any more trouble than they did before,” I said.
Saying it should have made me feel better, but there was still a pit in my stomach. I didn’t know why, but something felt wrong. There had been a short period of calm, but my gut told me that was about to end.
My gut turned out to be right. Murder was near once again.
Chapter Four
“All hands on deck for the haunted house tonight,” said Mom.
She had gathered the family in the Magenta Dining Room, where she liked to have the team meeting before the haunted house opened for the evening. Audrey had laid out food, some of which she had made with the veggies we’d picked up at the market. The fresh ingredients tasted delicious.
“I’ve been doing haunted hayrides all day. I’m tired,” complained Cam.
“You’re allowed to rest,” said Mom. “All the supernaturals who helped with the haunted hayrides are also resting. Everyone else has to work at the haunted house tonight.”
>
Then Meg took her turn. “We’ve beefed up the designs in many of the haunted rooms and talked to the supernaturals. This haunted house is going to be better than ever. I know it’s a lot of work, but it’s well worth it. We got a call from the Shimmerfield Inn a few hours ago, letting us know that they’re booked solid through the rest of the holiday season. People are coming from far and wide. The Chief of Police is now managing traffic coming to and from the estate. It’s going to be a busy few weeks.”
“If anybody has any questions,” Mom said, “please let me know. Jane, I want you to work the lines outside. Make sure they keep moving. I don’t want anyone upset by the wait or anything else. The customer always comes first.”
“Easy for you to say when your employees are skeletons,” said Lizzie.
Everyone simply looked at her, but she was oblivious. Even Cam shook his head.
“I’m going to bed,” said my brother, pushing his chair back from the table. He did look tired. The haunted hayrides were almost as much of a success as the haunted house itself.
“What do you want me to do?” Cookie asked.
Now everyone looked at my grandmother, but it was Mom who spoke. “You know perfectly well that the guests’ favorite part of the haunted house is the witch with her cauldron out front on the lawn. They expect to see you when they arrive and they expect to see you when they leave. They find you very realistic.”
“Somehow,” Lark muttered.
“Jane, before you work the line can you go out and talk to Clover?” my mom asked.
I made a face.
We had all known this was coming. We just hadn’t known who’d be asked to do it.
Clover Curmudgeon and his assistant had arrived on the grounds of Haunted Bluff earlier that day. Through the swirl of mist and the smell of the ocean, the creak of the cart and the gruff voice chiding any and all were unmistakable. I had managed to avoid Clover so far, but clearly my mother had no intention of letting me avoid him for long.
Clover was a traveling salesman who never settled anywhere for any length of time, at least not if he could help it. But that was no comfort to me right now.
He thrived in wartime, selling contraband goods to whoever would buy them. In peace he was bored and restless, and he punctuated those peaceful breaks with trips and speeches all around the world. His goal was to convince others to pick fights with their friends, neighbors, and enemies alike. His hope of returning to that wartime prosperity was always foremost in his mind. He had trouble making friends, and even his family liked to pretend they didn’t know him.
Given that he was all about making money, Clover liked to go where the profit was plentiful. He had recently taken on an assistant, paying the poor fellow a pittance and yelling at him mercilessly. On top of all that he was cheap with his bar tab, his barber, and anything else he was supposed to actually pay for.
He came to Shimmerfield every year for the festivities leading up to the holiday season, setting up shop near the bedraggled scarecrows out on the lawn. He had plenty of space out there by himself. That’s exactly how he liked it.
Clover refused to stay in the mansion where we could keep an eye on him. Even with so many rooms available at normal times, he still didn’t want to be near us. He was too busy guarding his stolen stuff.
Now the mansion was full, and there was no room for him anyhow. Not that he was likely to change his mind and want to come indoors.
I had never liked Clover very much, put off by the fact that he was only in it for the money. My mother didn’t care what he was in it for as long as he provided good decorations and boosted sales.
So Clover too, along with Cookie, had become something of a fixture on the lawn. Guests would see his big cart and catch a glimpse of a man in strange clothes. They all thought it was part of the display Haunted Bluff put on each year to entertain and spook them. Since there was nothing to be gained by enlightening them, no one did.
“Just make sure he has everything he needs. Also, tell him that Pep is selling gifts and that he’s not supposed to,” said my mom.
“I’m selling candy, too, and he’d better stay off my turf,” said Pep grimly.
“Fine. I’ll tell him. What do we know about his assistant?” I asked.
“Just met the guy. Seems young. Seems overworked. The usual,” said Meg with a shrug.
“You want me to come with you?” Cookie offered.
A chorus of noise followed that. Cookie and Clover did not get along well. One year, my grandmother had not been pleased about where Clover had placed his cart on the lawn, and she had not been quiet about it. Instead of simply asking him to move, she had planted stink flowers under the cart. It had nearly driven Clover mad. Unfortunately, he had an assortment of scary explosives, and he’d threatened to place one of them beneath her cauldron. She told him she’d like to see him try.
At that point Mom had stepped in. They’d been kept separate ever since.
I hurried out of the Magenta Dining Room without wasting time waiting for anyone to respond to Cookie. There wasn’t much time before the haunted house opened for the evening, and I wanted to get the encounter with Clover over with sooner rather than later. As I made my way outside to his cart, I could see that a line had already formed at the closed gates. It was a very exciting moment when two vampires would go out into the night and pull the gates open. They were usually accompanied by halos of bats, who simply enjoyed the spectacle. Visitors thought the bats were fake, so they didn’t run away.
As I neared Clover’s cart I saw that he had put up a tent this year. As big as a couple of cars put together, it looked luxurious. About twenty feet away was another tent, this one very tiny and sporting a hole in the roof. Maybe Clover had picked up a dog, but I doubted it. That would involve having to take care of another living creature, and we all knew that wasn’t going to happen.
“Clover?” I called out.
I was nearing the cart and there was still no sign of the trader.
The wind was blowing and clouds were skittering across the sky. In the distance I could hear the hum of conversation. There were already a lot of people waiting in line to visit the haunted house. Still no sign of life from the cart or the tents.
Just as I reached the cart, the flap to the small tent burst open and revealed a young man with dark eyes and a work cap on his head. When he saw me he called out, twisting the cap in his hands. “Sorry. Can I help you?” he asked, coming forward and trying to put himself between me and the cart. It was almost as if he thought I was about to steal something.
“I was looking for Clover. You must be his assistant?” I asked.
“Yes, I am. He’s in his tent. We aren’t supposed to disturb him when he’s in his tent,” said the young man.
“Okay. Do you have a name?” I asked him.
“Clover says not to give anyone my name just yet. He doesn’t want anyone to get too attached to me. He isn’t sure I can do the job properly,” said the young man. He glanced over his shoulder to look at the cart, then turned a nervous gaze toward the gates.
“That sounds silly,” I told him.
The young man had just opened his mouth to say something else when the large tent shook so hard it was as if an elephant was stomping around in there. One side bulged, then the other. The next instant the flap burst open. There in the entrance, to no one’s surprise, appeared Clover.
He was only about as tall as Cookie, so the shaking of the tent seemed quite out of proportion. For a split second he seemed angry, then his eyes landed on me. “Jane Garbo. What a surprise. Good to see you. Is there something I can sell you?” He quickly came forward and glared at his assistant. “Sorry about the service. We’re still in training around here.”
I was used to this from Clover; he always tried to sell me something.
“I didn’t come to buy anything,” I said. “Mom just asked me to make sure you’re comfortable and have everything you need.”
Clover had a pointed face and
beady eyes the color of muddy water. Far from dull, though, they were all too sharp. Like his assistant, he was dressed poorly, a choice that I was certain he made because he didn’t want to appear to be rich. If he were rich, people might start to wonder why his prices were so high.
His shoulders slumped in disappointment upon hearing that I didn’t want to buy anything. “Very well,” he said. “Yes, we have everything we need. No thanks to this one here.” He pointed at his assistant again and I bristled on the young man’s behalf.
“Cookie should be out soon. She’s been told to avoid you,” I informed him.
Clover snorted. “She should be afraid of me and not the other way around.” For the first time he didn’t sound one hundred percent confident.
“I’m sure I’ll see you around over the course of the next few weeks,” I told him. Then I turned on my heel and hurried back to the haunted house. I didn’t have time to chat, even if I wanted to, which I didn’t. The gates would be opened at any moment and the flood of visitors would start, after which I wouldn’t have a moment to myself until the end of the evening.
As I walked back to the mansion, I glanced down the road that led to the row of cottages, at the far end of which Grant lived. He wasn’t there at the moment, but I wished he was. I shook my head and hurried back to the house.
“It took you a long time. What have you been doing?” Pep demanded when I went into the gift shop. I told her I had found the assistant first and that he didn’t have a name.
She rolled her eyes. “That Clover always figures out a new way to be horrible. Did you get a good look at his cart?”
“Everything was under the cloth,” I told her.
“He also likes surprises. I can believe Cookie didn’t like that at all,” she said dryly.
“Is that what they had a falling out over?” I asked her.
Spooky Scarecrow Page 3
