Hell Hath No Fury

by Annabel Chase

  Joan’s mouth tightened as she handed over my change. “It’s a secret society, Eden. Why would anyone talk to a newspaper reporter about it?”

  “You could be anonymous,” I said. “I mean, why does the town need a secret society anyway? What purpose does it serve?”

  Joan tapped her rounded fingernails on the counter. “Never you mind, Eden Fury. You and Clara don’t have roots as deep as some folks here, so you wouldn’t understand.”

  And there it was. The suppressed air of superiority. “Sometimes roots get twisted and damage the trees they’re meant to support,” I said.

  “I’d advise Clara not to go poking around in things that aren’t her business.”

  “She’s a reporter,” I said. “It’s in the job description.” What was so sacred that Joan felt the need to turn hostile at the mere mention of the club?

  Joan’s hand flicked out and she handed me the bag of cheese. “Hope the fox enjoys his treat. Seems a bit decadent to me, but then again, your family’s always bordered on the strange side.”

  My face hardened. “You know, Joan, there are plenty of cheese shops in town. My family doesn’t need to support this one.”

  Joan flashed a fake smile. “Suit yourself.”

  I left Brie-licious in a huff. Joan’s reaction was exactly why I disliked the idea of a secret club for descendants. It seemed like an excuse to establish an unnecessary pecking order in town. Why jockey for position? Just be neighborly.

  I drove to the chief’s house to check on him. I didn’t like the idea of leaving him alone all day. He had to be scared.

  I parked on a side street so that no one saw my car and hurried to the back door. I’d left it unlocked so that I could slip in unnoticed.

  “Sawyer,” I called, opening the door. “It’s me.”

  The house was quiet. I went to the kitchen first and placed the bag of cheese on the counter before continuing to the bedroom. The food and water that I’d left for him were empty, so that was a good sign. I worried that he’d be too upset to eat and starve himself. I continued to the master bedroom. The comforter was askew and the sheets were tangled, but the fox was nowhere to be found. Uh oh. He couldn’t possibly have gotten out, could he?

  “Sawyer?” I raced through the house, checking for anywhere a fox could have escaped. There were no open doors or windows. When I turned to check the backyard, I spotted it. The back door had a cat flap. It was white and blended in with the rest of the door, so I hadn’t noticed it before. The previous homeowner must’ve had a cat or a small dog.

  “Gods above,” I hissed. Why would he leave? Was he thinking like a chief or a fox?

  I ran outside and scoured the backyard. What if he came into contact with the giant snake? My heart began to pound as I pictured a standoff between them. I had to find him. I was careful not to yell too loudly and alert the neighbors. They couldn’t know I was there and they certainly couldn’t know that the chief of police had been turned into a fox.

  I covered every blade of grass, looking for any evidence that pointed to which direction he went. I found nothing, not even trampled flowers. I was going to have to enlist the aid of my favorite wizard. I pulled out my phone and called Neville.

  “I was wondering where you were,” he said, by way of greeting. “I have Achilles with me at the office and he’s already chewed two wires and your mousepad.”

  “My mousepad?” I echoed. “How did he get that?”

  “I might have tossed it to him like a Frisbee when he started sniffing around my backpack.”

  I couldn’t be annoyed with Neville. After all, he was doing me a favor that was outside the scope of his FBM duties. Nowhere in the manual did it mention dogsitting for members of law enforcement turned into foxes.

  “I’ve been delayed,” I said. “I have a situation.”

  “Oh? Anything I can assist with?”

  “That’s why I’m calling,” I said. “The chief is missing and I need to find him.”

  “Have you tried calling him?” Neville asked. “Not on the phone, of course. I recognize the inadequacy of that suggestion when the chief currently lacks opposable thumbs.”

  I sighed. “Telling me to yell his name is the equivalent of telling me to turn my computer off and on when I have a problem.”

  He chuckled. “I do instruct you to try that more often than not.”

  I felt the tension creeping into my shoulders, so I stretched my neck from side to side. “I left him at his house last night, which I now realize was a big mistake, and he’s missing. He snuck out through the cat flap.”

  “Dearie me.”

  “Exactly. So, I need a little wizard help in tracking him. There’s also a supersized snake on the loose and I’d rather the two of them not square off.”

  Neville lit up. “It could be like Godzilla versus Mother.”

  “No, it really couldn’t.” I gave him the chief’s address and hung up. In addition to my pounding heart, my palms were now sweaty. The more I thought about poor Sawyer trapped in animal form, the more worried I became. He could get hit by a car, or drown in the river, or be lost in the woods forever. Gods have mercy, now I sounded like my cousin Julie. She was forever fretting about Meg dying in a ditch.

  I returned to the house to get a strand of Sawyer’s hair for the spell. Luckily, his hair was thick and I was able to snag a few pieces from his brush. I waited outside, pacing the length of the backyard to keep my body occupied. Anything to curb my rising anxiety. I sagged with relief when Neville appeared.

  “What took you so long?” I asked.

  “What do you think? I had to take Achilles for a quick walk and then gather supplies.” He set his backpack on the ground. “I expect you need me to do a locator spell.”

  I nodded. “I have strands of his hair.”

  “Perfect.” He held out his hand and I gave him the hair. As he prepared his magic circle, he glanced up at me. “Do you know yet how this happened?”

  “I have no idea,” I said. “One minute we were on a date, having a wonderful time, and the next minute I was kissing a pointed snout.” I hadn’t told him that part when I’d dropped off Achilles. It seemed too personal.

  “Do you think it’s your family?”

  “That was my first thought, but I didn’t see any evidence of their involvement. As far as I know, they’re still clueless about us.” I observed Neville as he lit a candle and began the incantation. I gave him space to work, not wanting to mess up the spell. Time was of the essence.

  Neville tipped back his head to look at me. “He’s near water.”

  “Gee, that’s super helpful when we’re adjacent to the bay and the river. Right up there with telling me that Mount Everest is located in the Himalayas.”

  Neville tugged his ear. “He’s near the mound.”

  Of course. He’d been impacted by something supernatural, so naturally he’d be drawn to the area where the portal and the vortex were located. His body was probably more in tune with magical energy than his mind was.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  Neville blew out the candle and swept the items into his backpack. “Do you want me to drive?”

  “We’ll drive separately in case we need to split up,” I said. “Did you leave Achilles at the office?”

  “I dropped him off next door,” he said. “Paige is looking after him.”

  “You didn’t tell her anything, did you?”

  He pulled a face. “Do I look like an amateur to you?”

  I shrugged. “Sometimes?”

  He huffed. “I told her that the chief was too sick to look after the poor pup and we were taking turns but had an emergency.”

  “Good thinking.”

  We parted ways on the sidewalk by the house and I slipped into my car before anyone spotted me. I pressed the pedal to the floor, knowing that there was little chance of a speeding ticket with Deputy Guthrie filling in for the chief. He was probably in the office right now, sobbing into a corned beef sandw
ich.

  I snagged a parking spot near Davenport Park and hit the brakes, rocking back and forth from the sudden stop. I bolted from the car and began my frantic search. There were people in the park with their dogs, so I couldn’t call his name without raising suspicion.

  Neville appeared beside me. “I’ll check the vortex.” A vortex is a place where multiple ley lines converge and powerful energy can be harnessed and we had our very own energy center right in Chipping Cheddar.

  “Then I’ll check the portal.” I’d recently shown the portal to the chief after revealing the truth about the supernatural world to him. Maybe he’d gone there in search of answers.

  To garden-variety humans, the mound is simply a hillside near the river and the Chesapeake Bay. Little do they know that a dormant portal to Otherworld is located inside. A portal that I routinely check to make sure that it’s still dormant and that no demons or other supernaturals have breached the border.

  I entered the hillside and let my eyesight adjust to the darkness. “Sawyer?” The small fox was curled up in a corner near the portal. I ran to him and dropped to my knees. “Are you okay?”

  The fox looked at me with soulful eyes. He opened his mouth as if to speak but no sound came out.

  Neville rushed inside. “He wasn’t at the vortex.” He halted in his tracks when he saw me on the ground with the fox. “You’re sure that’s him and not some random fox from the woods?”

  “What are the odds that a random fox came to check out the portal?” I demanded.

  “Stranger things have happened,” Neville argued.

  I stroked the fox’s head. “It’s him. I can tell.” I felt his presence in there. The fox form was merely a shell that housed the real Sawyer.

  “How’s the portal?” Neville asked.

  “Still dormant,” I said. I faced the fox. “I’m not taking any more chances. You’re coming home with me.”

  “Isn’t that a different kind of risk?” Neville asked.

  “I’ll hide him in the attic. There’s no reason for my family to look there. Besides, if they do find him, they’ll think I’ve adopted a fox. It won’t be the first time I’ve come home with a rescue animal. They won’t suspect it’s the chief.”

  “And what about Achilles?”

  “Will you keep looking after him?” I asked. “I know it’s no small request…”

  “I’ll do it,” Neville said, more quickly than I expected.

  “Great.”

  “Do you know how many women spoke to me today?” he asked. “Three. All because I was walking the dog. The pug is magical.”

  “Maybe you should ask one of them out,” I said. “Your reward for doing a good deed.”

  Neville puffed out his chest. “Maybe I will.” He paused. “If I manage to make eye contact next time. I haven’t been able to do it thus far.”

  Poor Neville. He really needed a dating coach, but there was no time to ponder that right now. I gathered the fox in my arms and headed for my car.

  “Best of luck, Agent Fury,” Neville called.

  “Thanks, Neville.” Because I was definitely going to need it.

  Chapter Six

  I’d barely made it into the attic with the fox when I heard my mother’s voice reverberating downstairs. I couldn’t make out the words. I sat on the mattress and cradled Sawyer on my lap. “When I’ve pictured you between my legs, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

  The fox observed me silently. Even without their brilliant sea-green color, his eyes were mesmerizing. I realized that I still felt drawn to him, despite his fox form. Was this what people meant when they talked about soulmates? That no matter what form someone inhabited, if he was your soulmate, you’d still recognize him as yours? My neck warmed when I realized I was thinking about Sawyer as my soulmate. It was way too early in the relationship for that kind of thought—wasn’t it?

  “I’m so sorry this happened to you,” I said. I buried my face in his thick coat. “I promise to make it right.”

  The fox nuzzled me and I started to relax. I felt guilty for what happened, even though I had no idea whether the change was related to me.

  “I bought you cheese, but I left it at your house,” I said. “I know there’s good cheddar here, so I can bring you some of that if you’re hungry.”

  The fox swished his tail.

  “If you hear me talking to someone, it’s Alice Wentworth,” I continued. “She’s a ghost that lives here. This farmhouse was part of her family farm back in the day. She’s very nice.”

  The fox cocked his head, listening.

  “I’m kind of embarrassed that you have to see this place,” I said. “It’s not very grownup to live on a mattress in the attic of your childhood home. The good news is that the barn will be finished soon and then I’ll have my own place.” I sighed deeply and stroked his fur, withholding the remainder of my thoughts—that the barn was still uncomfortably close to my family and the whole thing was probably a mistake. The chief had enough to handle right now without my own fears and insecurities.

  As though sensing my distress, the fox placed a paw on my arm. Even as a woodland animal, he was a sensitive and compassionate being. Where did this miracle man come from?

  “You left Iowa, a place you seem to like,” I said. “What made you do that? I wanted to get as far away from here as possible.” I settled against the pillow and the fox wedged in beside me. “My dream was to work for the FBI. Do you have any idea what it’s like to work hard for something and finally get it, only to have it snatched away?”

  We sat in silence for a moment, mainly because the fox couldn’t talk and I felt awkward holding a one-sided conversation.

  “I feel like I bring trouble wherever I go because of my true nature,” I said. “If I were a regular human like you, everything would be so much easier.”

  Alice materialized in the attic, causing me to jump. “You’d better come, Eden. Your mother is on a rampage.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Why?”

  “You’ll have to see for yourself to understand.”

  That didn’t bode well. “Am I a target?” That was a question Anton and I used to ask each other often as teenagers. It meant the difference between staying out later or going home.

  “I don’t think so, but she’s angry enough that anyone is fair game right now.”

  Terrific. I chose the ideal home to sneak in my human-turned-fox boyfriend. I got off the mattress and shook a finger at him. “Stay here and under no circumstances do you come downstairs. Do you understand?”

  The fox seemed to nod.

  “How sweet,” Alice said, admiring the fox. “He wears that fur well, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t care if he wears it well,” I said. “I want it off him.”

  “I preferred men without beards too,” Alice said, “but we don’t always get to choose the fashion of our time.”

  I fled the attic to see what my mother was angry about. As I hurried to the kitchen, I nearly collided with an old woman. At first I thought Aunt Thora has invited a friend over. The woman wasn’t tall enough to be Shirley, Grandma’s human friend.

  “Excuse me,” I said, and then froze. “Mom?”

  The woman’s skin had more wrinkles than Anton’s shirt after a nap in the car. Her hunched shoulders made her appear a couple inches shorter than her usual height. There was no mistaking the eyes though. Over the past twenty-six years, I’d seen them express every emotion, including the one they displayed right now.

  Pure, unadulterated rage.

  “Your grandmother thought it would be hilarious to hex me before my date tonight,” she seethed. Her voice trembled slightly in the way that elderly vocal cords were wont to do.

  Grandma and Aunt Thora sat at the table. Grandma nibbled on a cookie, maintaining a neutral expression. Her phone rested in front of her.

  “Why did you hex her with a premature aging spell?” I asked.

  Grandma kept chewing. “I admit nothing
.”

  My mother marched to the table. “You undo this hex right now.”

  Grandma picked up her phone and tapped the screen. “I’m afraid I’m fully booked today. Try again tomorrow.”

  My mother’s familiar eyes flashed with anger. “This means war.”

  I shook my head at Grandma. “Why didn’t you just kill her? That would’ve been kinder than making her old.” My mother’s vanity couldn’t handle the sudden change.

  “Because Thora made that murder jar,” Grandma said.

  “What’s a murder jar?” I asked, though I was sure I’d regret the question.

  Grandma pointed behind me to a glass jar with a yellow ribbon tied around the mouth. “That.”

  “How is that a murder jar?”

  “It’s like a swear jar,” Aunt Thora said. “Every time they kill each other, they have to put money in the jar. I figure it will pay for Olivia’s college tuition. Maybe even Ryan’s.”

  “Grandma’s too cheap,” I said, nodding my approval. “It’s a useful deterrent.” Hence the premature aging spell on my mother. “Why does it have a yellow ribbon?”

  “Because yellow is my favorite color,” Aunt Thora said.

  I should have known.

  My mother’s arthritic fingers worked hard to roll up her sleeves. There was a murderous glint in her eye. “I have money stocked away. I can afford the jar.”

  Aunt Thora sprang to her feet. “Now, Beatrice. Let’s not be hasty.”

  “What did you do to Grandma to deserve this?” I asked.

  My mother’s nostrils flared. “I did nothing to deserve this. No one deserves to be old before their time. It’s cruel and inhumane.”

  “Ha!” Grandma said, without looking up from her phone. “Oh, it’s my lucky day. I’ve been trying to catch this little guy for ages. He sparkles.”

  “Your lucky day, is it?” my mother said through gritted teeth.

  “Luckier than yours,” Grandma shot back.

  “Mom, what did you do?” I insisted. There was no way Grandma would go this far without provocation.