“That could just be because they’re on vacation,” I argued. “Sometimes you want to hook up when you’re on vacation. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything. You’re pretty. You would make an appealing hook-up option.”
“Oh, I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” Booker mocked, pressing his hand to the spot above his heart. “I’m going to write about that in my journal later. Thank you so very much.”
I rolled my eyes. “I was just saying that maybe witches are an option for you. We can test the idea. There’s no reason to be all morose about things. You might be able to find a woman who is immune to you.”
“That would be nice.” Booker offered a half-smile that didn’t make it all the way to his eyes. “That was one of the reasons I liked hanging around May so much. You have no idea how frustrating it is to have someone constantly propositioning you in a sexual manner.”
“You might be surprised. Women have that happen all the time.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a pain,” Booker muttered. “That’s why I never get serious with anyone. That’s why I don’t date. I’m doomed to this life and I’m fine with it.”
He didn’t sound fine with it. “Wait … weren’t your mother and father cupids? I mean … that’s how you’re a cupid, right?”
“My father was,” Booker replied. “My mother was something else.”
“A witch?”
“Just … something.” Booker vehemently shook his head. “We’re not getting into that, so don’t even try. I already spilled my guts once today. It’s not going to happen a second time.”
“That’s fine. The cupid thing is more than enough to work with for the time being.”
He looked hopeful. “You’re going to stay out of it?”
That seemed unlikely. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe there’s a spell or something we can try.”
Booker scowled. “You don’t even know how to be a proper witch. I’m not letting you cast a spell.”
“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport.” I was lost in my own head. “Where would I find books on cupids? Wait, never mind. You’re not going to tell me. I’ll figure it out on my own.”
“Yup, I’m definitely going to regret telling you,” Booker groused, making a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “This is going to come back and bite me in the behind.”
“I think you’re exaggerating.”
“And I think I’m done talking to you for the day.” Booker made a shooing motion with his hands. “Go away.”
“Oh, I’m not even close to being done.”
“That’s exactly what I was afraid of.”
21
Twenty-One
I considered stopping by the station to see Galen once I’d finished talking to Booker. Okay, to be fair, Booker simply got tired of talking to me, so he sent me on my way. I had plenty of questions to ask him, but he wasn’t in the mood to answer. It was a small island and there was no place to hide, so I left Booker to his work and headed to the grocery store.
I stocked up to the point I figured Galen would be wowed when next he looked inside my refrigerator – even grabbing an extra toothbrush and razor in case he forgot to bring one to the lighthouse – and then headed home.
I took an extra-long time putting things away in the hope that May would appear so I could ask her about Booker’s cupid lineage. Other than once or twice on other floors, she almost always showed up for visits when I was in the kitchen. She didn’t appear today, which was disheartening.
In fact, it had been days since I’d seen her. I ran the realization through my head as I climbed the spiral staircase to the library on the third floor, frowning as I did the math. She was there the night we thought someone might have broken in, but she disappeared as quickly as she appeared. That was almost forty-eight hours ago and I hadn’t heard a peep from her since. That was unusual, to say the least. Even though she wasn’t forthright and eager to spend time with me – especially when I had questions that needed answers – she almost always popped up every day, even if she stayed for only a few minutes.
Worry about May took a backseat when I hit the library – which was more of an office-laboratory combined – and a blast of cold air hit me in the face. I shuddered as I glanced around, confusion washing over me. There was something off about the room … although I had no idea what.
My first instinct was to flee. Yeah, I’m not the bravest soul when it comes to situations that horror movies have warned me about. One of my biggest fears was becoming a cautionary tale. Like, for example, I didn’t want to turn into an idiotic babysitter who forgets her charges and gets put in a bed with a tombstone like the chick from the original Halloween. I also didn’t want to visit a summer camp because good things could never happen there.
Now, standing in a room in my own home that felt decidedly inhospitable, I certainly wanted to run. I steeled myself, though, and instead focused on the contents of the room and refused to let myself bolt back down the stairs.
On second glance, everything seemed to be in its place … if slightly off. I headed to the bench at the far wall, the one that held an assortment of beakers and test tubes, and looked over the box of ingredients I found there not long after moving in. At the time, I didn’t know what to make of the equipment. Now I knew May used it to mix potions and other things – although my witch knowledge was so lacking I had no idea what those other things were – but the box looked as if someone had been rummaging inside.
Everything was there – hemlock, nightshade, rosemary, lavender, bittersweet, caraway – I recognized the labels on the bags from my first search. Something about the way they were organized felt off. I was almost certain the lavender and bittersweet weren’t next to each other before.
I was careful when touching the bag of lavender – I still had the warning about it increasing fertility in my head, thanks to Madame Selena – and moved it to the front of the box as I turned to stare at the rest of the room.
It was the same, yet different. I didn’t like the feeling washing over me, as if someone had invaded my space and ruined something that was supposed to feel safe.
I turned to the bookshelves next. I hadn’t conducted a proper inventory upon discovering the contents and mentally kicked myself for that now. I should have a list of everything in the room. How else would I know if something went missing?
“May?” I called out to my grandmother, hopeful she’d visit even if she wasn’t in the mood. I needed her more experienced eyes to look around and detect if something was missing. “May, I need you.”
Nothing. Not so much as a whisper. She didn’t appear at my elbow and cause me to jump, or call out to warn me she was coming. There was no sign of her. That made me uncomfortable.
On a hunch, I moved to the ornate bookstand in the center of the room. That’s where May’s Book of Shadows was prominently displayed. I’d flipped through the book a time or two – mostly out of curiosity – but I hadn’t taken the time to study it. That was also on my to-do list, although I often found things to distract me from the task because I wasn’t much of a reader unless it involved snarky heroines and sarcastic sidekicks.
The book looked to be intact as I flipped through it. Everything was in its place and where it was supposed to be. The room still felt off. Of course, I could be imagining it. That’s what I told myself, anyway. I rarely visited the third floor. That’s probably why I felt like a stranger in my own house.
I gave the Book of Shadows another lingering look before closing it and turning my full attention to the bookshelf by the door. I wouldn’t find the information I was looking for in a spell book. A history book was more my speed today.
I found what I was looking for quickly. “Mystical Creatures of Moonstone Bay.” I read the title aloud. “By Monique Maven.” Hmm. I’d never heard the name. Still, if she was local, that probably meant she was an expert.
I sat cross-legged on the floor and opened the book, flipping through the pages until I fo
und the section I was looking for. “Cupids in human form,” I read, tapping my bottom lip. “He might not want to tell me how it is for him, but I’m certainly going to find out one way or another. I hope he’s ready for a new list of questions because when I’m done here I’m going to make a list and track him down again.”
I tried to force my worry about someone being in the lighthouse from my head. There was nothing to steal here, after all. Everything in the upstairs room appeared to be present and accounted for, which meant I had nothing to worry about.
Even though I was trying to be practical I couldn’t shake my feelings of unease. I kept reading. I read about cupids being able to control feelings – whether good or bad – and I read about one particular cupid going rogue hundreds of years ago and becoming the Devil of Fornication. No joke. That’s a real thing. I can’t decide if I want to meet him or not. I mean, as far as devils go, he didn’t sound half bad.
I read about how cupids supposedly have an affinity for dolphins, which could explain why Booker’s father opted to settle here. I especially enjoyed the part of the story where even the dolphins fell in love with the cupid water enthusiasts … and then tried to do really lewd things to them. I read about another cupid who apparently contracted syphilis and didn’t get treated. He went crazy and started shooting people in the head with arrows, which I found fantastical and mildly frightening.
I got so caught up in the book I managed to forget my discomfort. I couldn’t entirely shake the feeling of dread settling over the room, though. I feared that wasn’t going anywhere.
I SPENT HOURS ON the third floor reading about cupids. There was so much information I was more confused than when I started. I headed to the kitchen, grabbed a banana and bottle of water, and moved toward the back patio. I needed a break from reading – it was dense stuff – and I was eager to take that break outside.
I didn’t even get a chance to sit before I noticed a figure walking the beach. At first I assumed it was Aurora – I hadn’t seen her in days, now that I thought about it – but a simple glance told me that wasn’t the case. The person walking was a fully-clothed man, not a naked female.
My heart did a slow roll when I realized who it was.
I left the banana on the small bistro table and headed toward the beach, clutching the bottle of water as I crossed the sand. The man didn’t look in my direction, instead stopping long enough to stare at the bright blue ocean and keeping his back to me. He remained locked in that position until I joined him.
“Gus.” I shielded my eyes from the sun, internally lambasting myself for not thinking ahead and grabbing a pair of sunglasses from the counter. “What are you doing out here?”
Gus merely shrugged. “Taking a walk. That’s not against the rules.”
“I know.” I wasn’t sure how to address him. We’d become rather chummy at the bar, but he probably didn’t remember much of that. “Do you know who I am?”
Gus nodded. “Hadley Hunter. May and Wesley’s granddaughter. Emma’s daughter.”
“Right.”
“We talked at Lilac’s place the other day,” he added. “You drank with me.”
Technically that wasn’t true. I didn’t do any drinking because he did enough for ten people. I didn’t think pointing that out was a good idea, so I nodded. “I did. We had a long talk.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” Gus ran his hand over his head. I could feel the frustration wafting off him in waves. “I got really drunk.”
“I was there.”
“I probably said some stupid things.”
My heart went out to him most in this stupid mess, although I wasn’t sure why. Maureen was certainly a victim, too – and Trish – but Gus was struggling the most. I wasn’t even sure he realized how much he was struggling. “It’s okay. I say stupid things all the time. It doesn’t matter if I’m drunk or sober. You’re allowed to say stupid things.”
“I can’t even remember the stupid things I said.”
“We just talked a bit. It was nothing big,” I supplied, lowering myself to the sand and patting it so Gus would feel comfortable enough to sit. His face was ruddy from the sun and I wanted him to take a break. “We talked about Trish … and the feud. You made sure I understood that you’d never had an affair with Barbie Conner even though that was the rumor.”
Gus snorted as he got comfortable on the ground, accepting the bottle of water I handed him with a nod of thanks. “Have you met Barbie?”
“I have.”
“You probably understand why it’s important for me to clear up that rumor.” He twisted the cap off the bottle and took a long swig. “She’s a horrible woman, although she wasn’t as bad when we were younger. She’s gotten progressively worse through the years.”
“She’s definitely a horrible woman,” I agreed. “She’s so horrible I don’t think she realizes how she comes off to people.”
“Oh, don’t kid yourself.” Gus sneered and shook his head. “She understands how people see her. She encourages it. Have you met the group of women she hangs out with?”
“I can’t say I have.”
“They’re awful. They think they’re somehow better than everyone else on the island.” Gus took another drink. “Barbie is their ringleader. She encourages them to be awful to everyone else while stabbing each other in the back whenever the mood arises.”
I didn’t know Barbie’s friends, but I had known women like that. “That doesn’t sound like anyone I’d want to spend time with.”
“No.”
“Barbie is a stupid name anyway.”
Gus snickered. “Her real name is Barbara. She chose to go by Barbie instead of Barb. Can you believe that?”
“No.” I really couldn’t. “How are you feeling otherwise?”
Gus’s mouth twisted into a frown. “How am I supposed to feel? My daughter is dead. She’s gone. She’s at the funeral home right now. We’re planning a service for her – but her mother insists on doing all the work and I keep dodging her calls – and then she’s going to be cremated.”
“Well … .”
“Burned!” Gus barked, making me jolt. “They’re going to burn my baby’s body.”
I didn’t know how to react. “Well, I’m sure if you go to the funeral director and convey your concerns he’ll come up with a different solution. You could pick out a nice coffin and cemetery plot.”
The look Gus shot me was incredulous. “Has no one explained to you about the cemetery?”
“Oh.” I felt stupid as realization dawned. “Right. The zombies. I hadn’t even considered that.” I felt like a moron. “How does that work on Moonstone Bay?”
“Everyone is cremated, whether they like it or not,” Gus replied, focusing on the rolling ocean waves. They looked somehow more shimmery than usual. I didn’t blame him for being entranced. “No one new can go into the cemetery. No one old can come out.”
“And it’s because of a curse gone wonky, right?”
Gus shrugged. “Galen could better answer that question. I just know my baby can’t be buried there. We have to burn her.”
My heart went out to him. “I know this is hard for you … .”
“Do you?” Gus’s eyes were accusatory when they latched onto mine. “Do you know this is hard for me? Who have you lost? I lost my daughter. A father isn’t supposed to outlive his child.”
“He’s not,” I agreed, my eyes pricking with unshed tears. “As for losing someone, I have. I lost my mother. The thing is, I lost her before I ever had a chance to know her. At least you got to know your daughter. She knew you loved her.”
Gus looked miserable as he buried his face in his arms. “I don’t remember the last time I told her I loved her.”
“She knew.”
“The last time I saw her she said she was meeting Ashley for drinks downtown.” Gus was inconsolable as he sobbed. “I gave her grief about it. I told her they shouldn’t be friends. I told her Ashley wasn’t worth her time.”
I fel
t helpless. “I’m sure Trish understands that you didn’t mean what you said.”
Gus’s eyes were filled with loathing when he raised them this time. “Oh, I meant it. That monster killed my baby. How could I not mean it?”
I was taken aback. “I’m not sure Ashley did kill Trish.”
“She did!”
I shrank back in the face of his fury. “Okay. She did.” I held up my hands in capitulation, but only because I was worried Gus would lose whatever shred of sanity he had left and attack me. “It was my mistake. I won’t make it again.”
As if sensing my distress, Gus deflated a bit. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“I wasn’t frightened.” That was a lie. “In fact … .” Whatever I was about to say died on my lips as the shimmering from the ocean water grew in size. It was like a cloud of … something … as it rolled forward. It didn’t keep pace with the waves, moving slower, but it was definitely coming. “What is that?”
Gus’s face was blank as he turned to stare at the water. “Are you talking about the boat? That’s Edgar Fletcher’s boat. At least I think it is. It’s too far out to be certain. I’m sure he’s just fishing.”
“Not the boat.” How could he even see the boat through the shimmering? “I’m talking about the glare. I … it’s like a big cloud.”
“What are you talking about?” Gus wrinkled his nose. “I don’t see any shimmering.”
That couldn’t be right. “But … .” Something started clicking in my ear. I didn’t recognize the sound at first, thinking perhaps Gus was clacking his teeth or making some sort of sound with his tongue. By the time I recognized what it was – a ticking clock counting down – it was almost too late.
“Oh, my … !” I grabbed Gus’s arm and gave him a tug, trying to pull him from where he sat and toward the underbrush near the line of trees closer to the house. “Run, Gus!”
His expression reflected confusion as he watched me scramble to my feet. “Why are we running?”
Witches Just Want to Have Fun Page 47
