I started getting nervous when I left the town proper, the non-fun butterflies multiplying as the miles passed. Now as I re-apply my lipstick, my hands tremble. My confidence and determination have completely left the building. Or really, I just don’t want to do this. It’s a bad idea of epic proportions. I am well aware of this fact. Now. On the way over I realized this could all be a set-up to humiliate or kill me. If Erica is the one who wants me dead, she could have recruited Guy to lure me here. They could be lovers in cahoots. I don’t have a shred of evidence, but that doesn’t mean a damn thing. Oh this is such a bad idea. I wish Adam was here. I was an idiot to make him stay behind. He was probably right that day in the store. Why the hell would Guy all of a sudden be interested in me?
Okay, stop it. Just stop it. You’ll be surrounded by people, you have all your protection charms and amulets, and you made a damn commitment. You gave your word, and that is sacrosanct. Get out of the frigging car.
So I do. I walk over the wooden bridge above the creek and up the paved hill, my shawl wrapped around me, clutch bag in hand, and head back. Fake it till you make it. The valets nod as I pass and Jimmy, the doorman, smiles as I walk in. The décor is old money with white painted walls and burgundy carpet. Paintings of Confederate soldiers and huntsmen hang on each panel. The hallway opens onto the hexagonal reception area, where three middle-aged men dressed in business suits pace around and shout into their iPhones. I consider myself a feminist but damned if my self-image doesn’t skyrocket as each of the men eyes me up and down like I’m prime rib.
The party is in the Jefferson Hall where Debbie’s reception will be, but tonight it’s sparsely furnished for the cocktail party before the auction. I give my name at the door so I don’t have to pay the hundred-dollar cover charge. Lining the walls are vendors selling their jewelry and other items for the silent auction. More men in suits and women in ornate cocktail dresses chat and swill champagne that waiters cart around on trays. Damn, those lamb chops look good. I scan the crowd for familiar faces, spotting Clay off to the side interviewing homecoming queen Naomi Ferguson. She looks spectacular in a sparkly pink dress a little too high in the skirt for my taste. My self-image gets knocked down a peg or nine.
“ … all about charity,” Naomi says into Clay’s recorder as I join them. “It’s so important.”
Clay turns off his recorder. “Thank you,” he says to Naomi, who smiles and slinks off to mingle. He takes one look at me and his jaw almost drops. “Holy crap. Mona?”
I grab a passing champagne glass. “The one and only.”
“You … you look great!” We kiss cheeks. “I barely recognized you.”
My eyes narrow. “Thanks, Clay,” I say sarcastically.
“You know what I mean. Did you just get here? Erica was looking for you.” But I’m only half paying attention as I check the crowd for my date. Clay notices. “He’s here too.”
“He is?” Oh thank the universe. “Where?”
Clay points to the other side of the room at one of the silent auction tables near the bachelorette stage. And there he is. He looks damn fine in his dark suit and glasses, but my heart doesn’t do the usual pitter-pat. Huh. Must be the nerves. Whatever, let’s do this. I smooth my hair, lick any lipstick off my teeth, and force myself across the room. The few people who know me either seem shocked or confused when they see me. My cousin Dickie stops serving crab cakes to get a look. I nod. I definitely need to wear red more often.
Guy is scribbling a bid on a golf lesson with a tournament pro when I reach him. “Hi.”
He looks up and, like the rest, cannot believe his eyes. Was I really such a troll before? “Mona? You—you look wonderful.”
“Wanted you to get your money’s worth,” I quip with a chuckle.
“I, um … wow.” He’s speechless. I’ve rendered another man speechless. I rule.
“You’re sweet,” I say with another chuckle.
“Mona?” Erica asks behind me. I spin around and find my scowling cousin dressed in a low-cut silver and black beaded dress. “There you are. You’re late. You missed the orientation.” She looks at Guy. “Please excuse us.” He and I share a small smile as Erica ushers me out of the hall. “Did you have to wear all those amulets and charms? Honestly.”
We end up in a smaller conference room with papers all over the desk. “There is still a demon on the loose,” I say. “You’re not wearing your wards?”
“I’m fairly sure a demon has better things to do than bother me,” Erica says as she shuffles papers around. She finds the one she wants. “Here. I need you to sign these.”
I read them over, just liability wavers and a contract. I know my way around them and see nothing wrong. “Here you go.”
She stuffs them in a folder. “Thank you. We’re going in alphabetical order, and you’re number nine. I suggest you mingle and chat with the gentlemen. Let them get to know you. The auction starts in thirty minutes, then you and your date will be escorted to the patio for dinner. They’re serving braised ham, salmon, or filet mignon prepared by celebrity chef Louis Nabrone from New York. Tell the men this, okay?”
“Got it.”
She eyes me up and down. “And don’t feel bad if you make the least amount. Every little bit helps,” she says with a smile.
“I understand.” You bitch from hell. “Oh, before I forget, did you ever get around to phoning Lord Thomas or Alejandro? They haven’t called me.”
“I’m sorry, I totally forgot. I’ve been swamped.”
“That’s okay. I shouldn’t have asked anyway. I know you and Thomas had a falling out after he started seeing that girl, but I thought since you and Alejandro were closer now you could go through him.”
If it wasn’t for the Botox, her forehead would crinkle as her eyes narrow. “Excuse me? Who said that?”
“Just something I heard. I wouldn’t blame you. Revenge sex is hot, or so I’ve been told.”
“I did not have revenge sex,” Erica says. “It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like?”
“It—” Her mouth snaps shut. “Why am I discussing this with you? It’s none of your business. Get a life, Mona.” She sets the folder down and stalks out of the room.
I think I hit a nerve. So she did sleep with Alejandro. Oh hell. A horrible realization whammies me. Maybe it isn’t Cheyenne. I mean, Erica’s always been in the running, but I haven’t seriously considered her a threat. She is better skilled to raise a demon, and she has a better motive, at least against Thomas. She could have wanted to control the coven to advance Alejandro’s agenda, and now she wants me dead to avenge her lover. Have I let my prejudice against Cheyenne cloud my judgment? Hell’s bells.
Clay is nervously interviewing Bethany Harmon, who looks radiant in her knee-length blue and black print dress, her blonde hair loose in curls around her round face. He’s had a crush on her for years. I feel kind of guilty interrupting them but do anyway. “Bethany, mind if I borrow my handsome cousin for a minute?”
“What the hell are you—” But I pull him away.
“Life or death, cuz.”
I know Erica drives a silver Mercedes but have five to choose from when Clay and I reach the parking lot. I look in the first one but the interior is wrong. “And you need me for what exactly?” Clay asks.
“I need a lookout. I have to break into Erica’s car.” Not this one either.
“So you dragged me away from Bethany to commit a felony?”
“I think it’s only a misdemeanor, if it makes you feel better.” Ah. A luck amulet on the dash. Found it. “Plus, now you’ll get to save the conversation for when you win her tonight.”
“Yeah, forcing her to eat with me. Just how I envisioned our first date.”
I close my eyes, call the magic, and the lock pops open. I am good. I slip into the car and start ransacking it. Nothing under the seats or the glove box. I pop the trunk before climbing into the back, but there isn’t even a gum wrapper. I lock the doors again be
fore moving to the trunk. Clay, who is about to jump out of his damn skin judging from the jittering, scans the lot. Jackpot. Both her gym bag and purse are in the trunk. The gym bag is a dead end with nothing but clothes and shoes. Her purse proves more interesting. Not just because of the pearl-handled .22, but because of the smell of sulfur wafting from the charm bag at the bottom. Sulfur is used in a number of spells and wards, so it could be a coincidence. The muti bag in a hidden zipper sends my suspicions over the edge. This bag is hoodoo, a distant cousin of witchcraft, and very dangerous. There are human teeth, herbs, and charms in the deerskin pouch. Use of any human body part indicates black magic. Erica just became my prime suspect.
I take out my cell to get pictures of these items for use in her excommunication and possible arrest. Now I just have to find a link between her and the demon. I suppose tomorrow Adam and I can break into her house. That’s always fun. She’s gotta have—
“Someone’s coming!”
I shut the trunk and rush over to Clay just as Guy strolls over the wooden bridge. “Guy!” I squeak. “What are you doing down here?”
“Looking for you,” he says suspiciously. “Someone saw you leave. Am I interrupting?”
“No, I was just … I forgot my cell phone,” I say, holding it up. “Clay offered to accompany me.”
“Nice to see you again,” Clay says with a guilty smile.
“So you’re staying for the auction?” Guy asks.
“Of course! Just … cell phone!” I say, holding it up again. “Let’s get back in there. Erica will kill me if I don’t mingle.” Among other reasons. I lock my arm in Guy’s and lead him back to the party.
Guy and I find an isolated corner, and he begins talking. Nonstop. The man sure does like to jaw about himself. I think he asks me about two questions about me in half an hour, but I find myself tuning out, so maybe he’s just carrying the conversation since I’m not up to the task. How the hell am I supposed to break into Erica’s house? It’s a huge refurbished antebellum with about a dozen rooms, servants milling around, and it’s ensconced in a gated community. Maybe Adam will have some ideas. At least this time I won’t have to watch him feel up another woman. At least I hope I not.
“Am I boring you?” Guy asks, bringing me back to the present.
“What? No. You were talking about your residency.”
He starts another monologue, and I make the appropriate noises and head nods, occasionally glancing at my cousin. Erica is chatting with a bald man across the room, occasionally touching his arm for effect. She feels me staring and glances my way. She nods and smiles before turning back to baldy. Could she really want me dead? It makes about as much sense as Cheyenne wanting to kill me. Regardless, tonight would be the perfect time to strike. I go to the bathroom alone and she hexes me, or hell, just shoots me. Goddess, I wish Adam was here. I should have brought him. Why the hell didn’t I? Guy can’t defend me, and for all I know he’s in on it. As he chatters on, I study his face. There’s no hint of malice, just pride and good cheer. I’ve misjudged men before. Have I just been a sucker for a handsome face?
“Why did you ask me to do this tonight?” I blurt out.
“What?” he asks, taken aback.
“Why didn’t you ask me on a regular date? Why here? Tonight?”
“I—I don’t know. I thought it would be romantic, me declaring my intentions in front of everyone. And it’s for a good cause. Do you not want to? We can leave … ”
“No, I was just wondering.” Plausible enough. “So no one put you up to it?”
“Of course not,” he says, a little offended. “Why?”
“It’s just that I didn’t think I was your type. Then, out of nowhere, I am. I was wondering what changed.”
He thinks for a moment. “I—”
“Attention,” a man says over a microphone. “The auction will begin in five minutes. Will the ladies please assemble at the appointed location?”
Crap. To be continued. The fifteen of us excuse ourselves and follow Erica into the next room. “God, I hope that sweaty guy doesn’t win me,” Naomi says to Bethany as we walk. There are chairs set up around a table for us to sit. The majority of us kick off our heels the moment we can.
“Now, Miranda you’re up first with Julie-Ann next. Y’all know your order,” Erica says as she sits too. “Listen for your cue, and for God’s sake, smile.”
“You look real nice tonight,” Bethany says to me. “I like your hair.”
“Thanks,” I say. Normally I’d take this opportunity to sing Clay’s praises to his paramour, but I can’t focus on anything but Erica. Enough pussyfooting around. This ends now. I pick up my shoes and stand. “Excuse me, Bethany. My cousin Clay likes you. He’s a good man but shy. You should ask him out. You won’t regret it.” There. If I die tonight at least I helped out a friend. Hope they name their daughter after me. I walk over to her majesty and loom over her. “Erica?”
“Yes?” she asks.
“May I speak to you in private for a minute?”
“Now? I don’t—”
“It’s important.”
“Oh lord,” she says as she stands. I lead her out onto the patio, shutting the door behind myself. “If you want to quit, it’s too late. I—”
“Why do you have a muti bag with human teeth in your purse?”
Her collagen infused lips open in surprise. “How do you know that?”
“Someone came to me in confidence and told me. What is it for?”
She starts playing with her diamond pendant. “I—none of your business.”
“I am your High Priestess, and if you are involved in black magic, it is my business. Especially considering recent demonic events.”
“And you think I had something to do with that? Why on earth would I?” Her eyes narrow at me.
“To kill me. That was the plan, right? The one you concocted with Alejandro?”
Her mouth drops open. “Mona McGregor, you have lost your freaking mind. I do not have to listen to this.” She takes a step to leave, but I grab her arm. “Don’t touch me.”
I don’t let go. “What was the plan? Enlist your friend Dr. Sutcliffe to lure me here, get me alone, and have your demon murder me on the golf course?”
“I don’t even know a Dr. Sutcliffe. And why would I conspire with anyone to kill you? That is beyond ridiculous.” She shakes her head. “I really do think you have lost your damn mind. Get help, Mona. Now let me go before I scream,” she says calmly.
She’s afraid of me. That’s rich. I do release her. “You do know it’s not too late to stop this. No one’s been hurt yet. Just send the demon back and forget the whole scheme.” I meet her eyes. “But you should know if any harm comes to me or anyone because of you, the F.R.E.A.K.S. will show up on your doorstep and drag you to their secret prison never to be heard from again. Do you hear me, Erica? Nothing is worth that fate.”
Erica glares at me, trying to mask her fear with indignity. “For the last time, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my party.” With a last glare, she strolls back inside as if the entire conversation never happened, smiling at all the women. I think they’ve been watching us the whole time. I’m sure I came off as the crazy one.
I turn my back to them and take a deep breath. That could have gone better. I think I just made a large tactical error, tipping my hand. What if this pushes her over the edge? What if she has Guy poison my champagne? Goddess, I wish I had a cigarette. I’d leave, but if Guy is somehow involved in all this, I need to pump him for information. What I really need is backup.
I need Adam.
I rush inside and retrieve my purse before returning to the veranda. Tamara prepared my purse so all I have in here is my license, credit card, keys, condoms, spare underwear (why, I do not know), and my cell phone. I very much doubt I’ll put any of those to use aside from the cell. I call home, but the machine picks up. “Adam, it’s Mona. Oh I really hope you get this
. Um, can you get Auntie Sara to watch the girls and come to the country club? I—I may have been wrong about Cheyenne. I think it’s Erica. Call me or just get here. The address is on the fridge. Bye.” Maybe he was outside. I try his cell.
This time he picks up. “Hello?”
“Oh thank the goddess. It’s Mona.”
“Are you okay?” he asks over the voices in the background.
“I guess. Where are you? I hear people, and you didn’t answer the house phone.”
“I’m … watching TV. I didn’t hear the phone, sorry.”
“Whatever. Um, can you meet me at the club? I’ll fill you in when you get here.”
“Are you in danger?”
“Not right now. Just get here.”
“I’m—I’m on my way. Stay around people.”
The door opens and Bethany pokes her head out. “Hey, two girls have already gone. You better get in here or you’ll miss your cue.”
I press my hand over the cell. “Be right there.” When she’s gone I tell Adam, “Hurry,” and hang up.
Erica refuses to look at me when I slink back in and sit. Luckily there are only about two minutes we have to be in the same room before it’s her turn on the auction block. She doesn’t return. Maybe she’ll actually listen and this will be the end of the nightmare. She’ll send the demon back, suppress her murderous impulses, and we can go back to silently disliking each other. Yeah, while I’m in Fantasyland, maybe I’ll win the lotto too.
Sooner than I’d anticipated, Nadine LaPlante leaves for her turn and I’m the next bachelorette to face her fate. My stomach does somersaults as I walk to the door to listen for my name. All thoughts of my death are momentarily overshadowed by the intense fear that I’m about to be laughed at the moment I set foot out there. What if my humiliation is part of the plan? I think I’m about to throw up.
What's a Witch to Do?: A Midnight Magic Mystery Page 19
