“No, actually it’s our pale friend in Richmond.”
“Tommy?” she asks with surprise.
“Yeah. He’s been making noises about withdrawing his support and telling others to do the same. I’ve been trying to call him, but he won’t return my calls. You know him, right?”
“We have met on a few occasions,” she says with a private smile, no doubt reliving their sexual Olympics.
“Well, Alejandro called me Friday night, and I’ve been leaving messages for him as well.” I gaze at her to gage her reaction, but she remains impassive. Could just be the Botox. “I really, really need Thomas to call me back. This affects the entire coven. I hate to ask, but can you have him contact me?”
“What makes you think he’ll listen to me?”
“You can be very persuasive, Erica. It doesn’t even have to be him, you can try Alejandro. Just one phone call. Please? For the coven?”
Okay, my logic behind this gambit is that if she wants me dead, there’s no way in hell she’ll waste a precious second of her time doing me this favor. And since her murder plot went awry, she’d stay as far away from Thomas as possible. On the other hand, if they are lovers, she’ll jump at a chance to call him, even for me. So if she calls him, she’s probably innocent. If she doesn’t, then she’s either a bitch or wants to kill me. Miss Marple, eat your heart out.
“Of course I will,” Erica says with a gracious smile. “Anything for the coven.”
Mayor Magda hustles in, her arms filled with file folders. We, being good minions, snap to. Those standing quickly find seats as our taskmaster hands us each a file. We go over the order of events, all our specific jobs from here on in, the progress of the mural for the pageant. After twenty minutes of discussion of who is providing what for the silent auction at the country club, I feel like stabbing myself in the eye with a pencil. Quite a few times, I glare at the oblivious Magda for roping me into this. She cornered me at the grocery store and pretty much told me she was recruiting me for this committee. She is not a woman a person says no to, which makes her a good mayor.
“In other news,” Magda says, “I was at the Goodnight Museum where DJ Ray from WQRG was broadcasting and promoting the festival this week. The museum had record numbers of attendees this week and tomorrow’s performance of The Crucible is sold out. And both the bake sale and arts and crafts fair were rousing successes. We also forecast making ten thousand dollars at the bachelorette auction on Wednesday. We’ve had fourteen participants sign up, including our very own Erica Fitch and former homecoming queen Naomi Ferguson.”
We clap at this stunning achievement. “And please know I have been promoting the heck out of this event too,” Erica says, “both in town and Richmond. I am more than sure we will surpass our goal.” On her alone, she no doubt adds in her head.
“And thank you, Erica, for organizing the event,” Magda adds. “I’ll meet with you on Wednesday to coordinate at the club. I think that’s it. We seem to have everything well in hand. If I have any follow-up, I will call you. See you all on Thursday for prep.”
We all stand and Jocelyn mutters to me, “That’s over an hour of my life I’d like back.”
I chuckle as I push in my chair. “Hey, can you give me a ride home?”
“Sure,” Jocelyn says.
Erica begins tottering away on her five-hundred-dollar heels. “Just give me a sec, okay?” I rush after Erica, tapping her on the shoulder. She spins around. “I … ” Okay, do I really want to do this? It has a huge potential to blow up in my face, making me the laughingstock of the town. Or worse, it could break my heart. But Daddy didn’t raise no coward. “I want to sign up for the bachelorette auction.”
Her eyes just about bug out of her head. “What? Really? You?”
“Yeah. It’s not too late, is it?”
“What—You—What,” she stammers. “Are you sure? I mean, you … I don’t think it’s your scene, Mona. Most of the men attending are, well, not your type. You wouldn’t enjoy yourself.” She pats my shoulder. “I’m just looking out for you.”
I so want to punch her surgically altered nose, but being a lady I instead plaster a smile on my face. “That’s really sweet of you. Really. But I promised a certain gentleman I would participate, and I cannot bring myself to let him down. I’m sure you understand.”
“And who is this gentleman?”
My smile grows wider. “Let me sign up and see.”
Erica’s eyes narrow as she tries to figure out my angle. As if I’d sabotage her event. “Well, it’s your life, Mona. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Though it sickens me, I hug her tiny form. “Thank you, Erica.” I let her tense body go. “I really appreciate it. Don’t forget to call Thomas for me! See you Wednesday!”
I rush over to the confused Jocelyn waiting for me by the door. “What on earth was that about?”
“A leap of faith.”
Witchcraft for dummies
Ah, just what every woman wants to be greeted by after a long day: the noise of a band saw. The whirring grows louder as I enter the house. Auntie Sara pounces on me the moment I shut the door.
“Is he going to continue with that racket during the class?” she shouts. “I cannot stand it a moment longer!”
I set my bag down and start toward the source of the noise, the backyard. Auntie Sara has begun setup for the class in the living room, dining room, and kitchen by laying down plastic sheets on all tables and setting out extra copies of the lesson. In half an hour there will be twenty witches here, and there isn’t a single one who isn’t messy. We used to meet at the high school chemistry lab, but then the old principal retired and the new one is a Baptist and didn’t want evil spread through his high school—his words, not mine. So I sacrificed my upholstery and carpet for the furtherment of education. I should put a curse on that damn principal.
When I get outside, with Auntie Sara right on my heels, I find Adam behind Papa’s old wooden stand using an electric saw to cut planks of wood. There’s a whole stack of them off to the side. He’s not the only one hard at work. Sitting in the grass, Sophie and Cora have their own project, painting lumber with dark varnish and deep concentration, as if they were working on a masterpiece.
Adam shuts off the saw when he notices me and takes off his safety glasses. “Oh hey.”
“Aunt Mona, we’re painting!” Cora says with a huge grin.
“I see that.”
“Before we went to the grocery store, we stopped by the Home Depot and got the wood for the shelves,” Adam says. “Had a little luck too. They had some already cut to fit the bookcase. The girls are working on those now.”
“You went grocery shopping too?” I ask.
“They were right next door to each other,” Adam says.
“Oh, well, thank you,” I say, most impressed for some reason.
“You’re welcome,” he says with a nod.
“Young man, are you going to—” Auntie Sara starts.
The man completed my most hated chore; I’m not going to have him lectured. “Auntie Sara, can you please finish setting up?” I ask with a sweet smile. “Everyone should be arriving soon. I’ll be in there in a minute.”
“Fine,” she says, still eyeing Adam, who holds his pleasant façade. She retreats inside.
“That woman does not like me,” Adam says when she’s out of earshot. “She barely let me in the house when we came home. Then she tried to grill me about myself. That’s when I started sawing.”
“She’s just protective.”
“I can appreciate that. How’d your meeting go?”
“Dull, but Erica was there in all her bitchy glory. I asked her to call Thomas for me.”
“Think she will?”
“If she’s innocent, she will. And as much as I can’t stand her, I don’t think she’s the one. Being High Priestess is all about respect and guiding others, and Erica wants precious little to do with us lowly small-town folk.”
“Just don’t
let your guard down around her,” Adam warns.
“Speaking of, both Collins and Cheyenne will be here shortly. Can you keep an eye on the girls in case the spells hit the fan?”
“Sure thing.”
“Thanks,” I say as I reach across and rub his hard biceps in appreciation. His body jerks in surprise as if I’ve just electrocuted him. I quickly pull away. “Sorry. Sorry, I just thought because werewolves like to be touched—”
“No, no, it’s fine. It’s fine,” he mutters, embarrassed to hell. “I’m just going to get some water. Excuse me.” He all but flees inside.
Okay, no idea what that was about. Note to self: don’t touch him. I turn my attention to the girls, walking over and sitting on the grass next to them. “How was school?”
“Boring,” Sophie says.
“I got a check plus on my spelling test,” Cora says.
“That’s great. And did you have fun with Adam?”
“He let me get Twinkies,” Cora says, “and Oreos.”
“He did, huh?” I ask, petting her hair before I stand. “Well, you have fun painting. I have class. You two stay here and keep working.”
Adam walks back out with three juice boxes. We pass each other, but he just nods. “For my assistants,” he says as I step inside.
I barely have time to change clothes and grab a snack from my now fully stocked fridge before my students start arriving. The majority of them are younger and female, from sixteen to twenty-five, with a few exceptions on both accounts. It’s open to everyone, but since I mainly do beginner potions, the more advanced witches approach me one-on-one for help. As they set up their mixing bowls, I move from room to room to check on them. The space at the kitchen counter with a perfect view of the backyard is the first to fill up. The ladies are doing less prep and more staring out the window and whispering about the man measuring and marking lumber. One eligible bachelor comes to town, and all the women go into heat.
“Oh please tell me he isn’t a cousin,” Belle says to Meg.
I needed a reason to pull them aside to grill them about Cheyenne. This’ll do. “Belle, Meg, I need you two to come with me right now, please,” I order.
The girls, both in their early twenties and petite, exchange a worried look but follow me out of the kitchen and up to my office. “Are we in trouble?” Meg asks when she walks in.
“No,” I say as I shut the door. “I just need to speak with you.”
“What about?” Belle asks.
“Cheyenne. In the past month, a few people have come to me with rumors about you two, her, and black magic. I want to hear your side before I decide what to do.”
All the color drains out of their faux tan faces as they exchange another petrified look. “We—we don’t know what you’re talking about,” Meg says.
“If you come clean now, I will take that into consideration, and what you tell me goes no further than this room.”
They glance at each other again. “You’ll, like, give us immunity or whatever?” Belle asks.
“Immunity?”
“Like if we confess you won’t kick us out of the coven?” Belle asks.
“It was Cheyenne’s idea, anyway,” Meg adds. “We didn’t want to. Honest!”
“We were just kind of bored,” Belle says. “And we didn’t hurt anyone. It didn’t work.”
“What exactly did you girls do?”
“We were hanging over at Cheyenne’s, like, two months ago,” Meg begins. “She said she found this grimoire with these awesome spells inside. Stuff you wouldn’t teach us, so we thought we’d try one out.”
“It was just a little hex,” Belle adds. “We tried it on Brittney to give her some boils because she was flirting with Cheyenne’s boyfriend earlier, but it didn’t work. We’re so sorry. Please don’t kick us out! We’ll never try black magic again, we promise.”
“What else was in the grimoire?”
“Bad stuff,” Belle says. “Stuff to trap spirits and jinxes and ones that required animal sacrifices.”
“Was it hand-written or a printed book?”
“It was a small black notebook with spells written or glued in,” Meg says.
“Do you know if she still has it, or if she’s tried other black magic spells?”
“We’re not really all that close,” Belle says. “We only went to her house because we were leaving Dixie’s Bar at the same time.”
“Well, have you heard anything? Rumors? People talking about how she, or anyone, doesn’t like the job I’m doing, or that they have anything against me?”
Both girls shake their heads no. Crap. “Are we in trouble?” Meg asks.
“Well. You did try to harm another person, that can’t go unpunished. You’re both banned from class for the next two weeks, starting tonight. Use this time to reflect on how stupid what you did was. That spell could have backfired, or worse. Now, go pack up your kits and I’ll see you in two weeks. And don’t tell anyone what you’ve told me, not even Cheyenne, alright?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the girls mutter.
“Go on,” I say. The girls scurry out of the room like a shot. I follow a few seconds later.
Okay, so Cheyenne has a book of black spells. Interesting but not definitive. Even I have a book or two on black magic. It’s only natural for witches to dabble in the forbidden, and I speak from experience. When I found out Dennis had a fiancé, I hexed him. I don’t know if he became impotent, but Granny found out and ripped me a new one. But if Cheyenne has skirted the dark side once and is actually adding black spells to the book, then that’s a horse of a different color. She wouldn’t go to the trouble of accumulating them unless she planned to use them.
Through the kitchen window, I view the wicked witch of the hour in my backyard dressed in super-tight jeans and an obscenely low-cut top, chatting with a smiling Adam. I’m no expert in flirting, but even I am not oblivious to what’s going on back there. Her I’m not surprised by; but him …
He leans in and speaks, causing her to burst into laughter and “accidently” place her hands on his pecs. With her, he doesn’t flinch or act as if her hands are coated in acid. A stab of I-don’t-know-what pierces my chest, and I bristle. He must like ’em whorish and evil. No accounting for taste.
“Oh lord,” Collins says behind me. “That man doesn’t stand a chance.”
I turn around and find her and Debbie staring out the window too. “Eww,” Debbie says.
“Hey, how you two doing?” I ask.
“Tired,” Debbie says. “This wedding is sucking out my soul.”
“Well, just remember, this time next week you’ll be in the Bahamas sipping mai tais with your charming husband.”
Collins puts her arm around Debbie. “And we will be here not so quietly hating your guts.”
Auntie Sara rushes in, lips pursed in disapproval as always. “Everyone’s arrived.”
“Thank you,” I say. “Attention everyone! Please go into the dining room so we can begin.” All the women in the kitchen obey, and I poke my head out the back door. “Cheyenne, class is about to start.”
“I gotta go,” she says to Adam with a pout. “Think about what I’ve said.”
“Oh, believe me, I will.”
I suppress an eye roll as she walks past me. His eyes follow her, but when they meet my hard ones, he smiles sheepishly. This time I don’t stop my eyes from revolving.
All nineteen women and three men wait around my table, where I take my place next to Auntie Sara at the head. Most students have their pads out except lazy Cheyenne and Debbie, who already knows the spell. Debs just likes to come to see all her friends and lend a hand. Cheyenne keeps glancing in the direction of the backyard and even gives a little wave. This will not be a fun class for her.
“It’s recently come to my attention that I have not been giving you a well rounded education,” I start. “Now, I know no one in this room is guilty of performing black magic, but not all witches are as honest as the Goodnight Coven. I realize
d you need to know how to properly defend yourselves against those … monsters,” I say as my eyes dart to Cheyenne, who is still gazing into the backyard. “So we will spend the first half practicing a protection spell, and the other making a charm bag. Auntie Sara?”
Auntie Sara flicks her fingers at me while saying, “Efflo aeris,” and I sneeze. Ivy used to drive me nuts with this hex, among others. Auntie Sara does it again, but this time I hold up my hand to focus my power and say, “Reverto,” and Auntie Sara sneezes this time. “Now, please note that this is an all-purpose deflection, but it won’t work with some higher-level hexes or if the witch attempting a hex is drawing more power from the ley lines. Still, it’s a good start. Okay, break into partners and take turns. Sara and I will move around and observe.”
I spend the next half hour strolling around the house watching a lot of people sneeze. Most get it quickly, both the hex and deflection, except for the few near the backyard who can’t unglue their eyes from a sweaty Adam. Those ladies require some glares before returning to the task at hand. Sophie and Cora keep giggling as Rosalie Dupres gives Cheyenne a sneezing fit, snot running down her nose. That’s what she gets for not paying attention. After the fourth try, Cheyenne rushes for a tissue.
Since she’s culled from the herd, I follow her to the bathroom. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” she says after blowing her nose.
“You know I thought you, of all of them, would find this easy as pie.”
“I’m just a little distracted,” she says as she tries to step around me out of the room.
I block her way. “Yes, my cousin is very distracting. At least you seem to know the hex.”
“Yeah, well, everyone’s known that one since kindergarten,” she says defensively.
“And what other hexes do you know? I hear you’ve been working on some others.”
Her eyes narrow but before she can comment Auntie Sara rushes in. “That fool Brandie has a nosebleed from sneezing too much. Blood’s pouring everywhere.”
“Hell’s bells.” Great, instead of grilling a suspect, I have to go ice a nose.
When that crisis is over, I call them back into the dining room to demonstrate how to make a charm bag to ward off hexes. This proves to be less dramatic, just mixing herbs and stones and infusing them with magic. We even finish ten minutes early. I work the rooms, saying goodbye to those who don’t stay for wedding talk. Debbie holds court in the living room with about seven cousins gushing about her dress and lingerie for the honeymoon. Just talking about it makes her glow. My crowning achievement, that girl.
What's a Witch to Do?: A Midnight Magic Mystery Page 10
