Thorn to Die

by Lacy Andersen

  Momma Tula sat down at a plate and I took the place next to her. Sure enough, a tray of enchiladas sat dead center of the rickety old table. Surrounding it was a variety of side dishes, some recognizable and others that looked slightly questionable.

  Living in a house full of witches came with its perks and its drawbacks. For one, Grammy Jo had been gifted with the talent of potion making and cooking. It meant a hot supper on the table every night and no need to cook, something I was only too glad to give up. Yet, in her old age, Grammy Jo had become slightly unhinged, and it showed up in her cooking.

  Last week, she’d passed around an innocent looking peach pie with homemade whipped cream dolloped on top. It wasn’t until two bites in that I’d discovered the trace remains of a piece of willow tree bark. Grammy Jo had claimed it lent a husky flavor to the pie, but I worried sometimes about her process. Anyone that thought tree bark made a good addition to pie was missing a few screws upstairs.

  Throwing a scrap of mystery food to Kat under the table, I helped myself to a plateful of food as Blythe rambled on across from me about her upcoming wedding this weekend. Not her wedding, exactly. It was actually her job.

  “So, what exactly does a wedding planner do?” I asked between bites. It was a question I’d asked several times, but it still made me giggle to hear her reply.

  “Not a wedding planner, my dear cousin Hazel.” Her voice was practically dripping with sugary condescension. “My official title is Specialized Event Organizer. It says so on my cards and everything.”

  I hid my smile and nodded along.

  “I organize the flowers, the order of affairs, the entertainment, and the gown. Everything, dear Hazel.” Her hands flapped with unbridled enthusiasm. “I’m a very essential part of the wedding. I mean, without me, there practically wouldn’t be a wedding!”

  Of course not. What’s a wedding without a Specialized Event Organizer?

  “I don’t suppose those witchy powers of yours ever come in handy during one of your events?” I asked, shoveling another bite into my mouth.

  Her sky blue eyes darted across the table, before settling back on me. She swept her bottle blonde hair out of her face, settling it back into its perfect A-line cut. “Well, I’m very good at my job, but yes, occasionally it helps to be able to freeze time for a few seconds. I might’ve saved a photo opportunity or two with some witchy magical assistance.”

  I smiled into my water glass. Raven, Blythe and I couldn’t be any different. I had my mystical art powers. Blythe could freeze time and occasionally had visions of the future. Raven could throw out magical force fields and had a way of communicating with animals. And yet, we’d all been born on the exact same day with the exact same half-moon birthmark above our collarbones. Momma Tula used to tell me we were special, a once in a millennia kind of occurrence. But it didn’t feel that special to me.

  “You know, your great-great-great-grandmother Laramie Brunick also had the power to freeze time,” Grammy Jo said with a mouthful of cottage cheese. We all groaned. She’d told the story a million times.

  “And so when the townspeople of Uriville decided to burn her at the stake…” Blythe mouthed along with Grammy.

  “She decided to play a little prank on them instead,” I mouthed.

  “Right before the flames got to her, she froze time and escaped,” Raven silently finished.

  Grammy Jo glared at the three of us, clearly not amused. We all smiled into our plates.

  “And then she used a spell to change her appearance,” Grammy continued. “She got to enjoy the shame of the townspeople, who all came to believe they’d killed an innocent girl. You know, it was her idea for the town to have a memorial every year. I doubt she dreamed it would grow into a theme park.”

  Oh, the great irony of the witchy world of Brunicks.

  Momma Tula played silently with her food, pushing her beans around with the tip of her fork. I nudged her with my elbow and she put half a bite in her mouth, slowly chewing the sustenance as if it was a piece of rubber.

  “Ohhh, you won’t believe what I saw last night.” Aunt Piper leaned into the table, her plump form resting on the surface. It wasn’t hard to figure out where Blythe got her bubbly personality from. Her mother loved to tell a good story. “I was dream hopping and I ran into Laura Blight’s head. By golly, you won’t believe the things I saw. This woman’s bullfrog hopping mad.”

  It was time for the daily rundown of Aunt Piper’s nighttime adventures. Gifted with the ability to leap into people’s dreams, she’d spent many a witching hour combing through the dirty little secrets of Uriville’s sleeping population. Often, the dreams she witnessed were harmless enough. Flying through the sky, swimming in the ocean, walking along the beach. But it was the raunchy and dirty dreams she lived for, the best ones to spill across the evening’s meal.

  “Sister, I do believe Laura Blight would rather you not share her private dreams with a table full of her fellow citizens.” Aunt Viv’s extremely thin form wrapped in her customary black turtleneck sweater swayed next to her sister’s. “Maybe it’s best you keep it to yourself.”

  “Swaddle-dee-doo,” Aunt Piper said with a dismissive wave of her purple cat-eye glasses that hung from a pearl chain around her neck. “You tell us all the time about your astral projection adventures. Let me have a little fun.” She pouted out her lower lip and gave a little shake of her tightly permed auburn hair.

  Aunt Viv’s eyes trailed over my head and glossed over. Not an unusual occurrence for the space-cadet. Sometimes, I wondered if she was astral projecting right now, escaping the madness of the dinner table for some quiet resort. If only I’d been gifted with such a power. It might’ve made these meals more bearable.

  Aunt Piper took her sister’s silence as permission to spill, leaning even further into the table, her caramel brown eyes bulging from their sockets. “Laura Blight has a thing for hippies. And by hippies, I mean Andy Jenkings!” She giggled into her fist. “She was dreaming of him taking her for a midnight stroll on a deserted riverbank. Her in a billowy red gown with overflowing cleavage, three sizes bigger than real life, mind you, and him in white cotton pants and shirtless. It was all too much! And it was just getting good when her friddle-faddle alarm clock had to spoil the fun. I tell you, that woman’s in love.”

  Raven rolled her eyes. I felt the desire to do the same, but our aunt had focused her bulging eyes on me with an expectant smile stretching her round cheeks.

  “Oh…uh…hahaha. That’s a good one, Aunt Piper. What a laugh.”

  She seemed satisfied with my reply and nodded her head vigorously. Blythe joined her in the laughter and together they rehashed every little detail of poor Laura Blight’s private dreams. I was pretty sure my cousin was hoping this meant more future business for her little wedding planner company.

  My attention strayed back to my mom. Her blonde highlights had grown out and her hair brushed along her exposed collarbone, where a tattoo of three little stars peaked out.

  “How’s the food?” I gently asked.

  She shrugged. “It’s good.”

  From what I could see, she’d mostly pushed the various dishes around her plate. Not much sustenance had made it into her mouth.

  “Did you get a chance to look at those old photos Aunt Viv found for you?”

  My aunt had found a box of them in the attic yesterday. They were shots from their childhood. Momma Tula featured with her baby blonde hair next to her unruly big sisters. I’d thought maybe they could pull her from her funk. Looking at them even made me chuckle a bit.

  “Oh, no,” she pressed her strawberry red lips together, frown lines appearing around her mouth. “I was too busy. I’ll try to get to them tomorrow.”

  I held in my disappointed sigh. In four weeks, she’d made very little improvement. If I was ever going to reclaim my position at the Witch Academy of the Arts, we’d have to make some serious changes. Maybe a witchy potion in one of Grammy Jo’s books would help. Anything to perk
her up the tiniest bit.

  As if on cue, the thick black cauldron on the stove began to disintegrate in a cloud of gray smoke. Thick green mucus poured through the metal, dissolving everything in its path. The entire room burst into a panic, magic shooting from various hands to save the antique cast-iron stove. It wasn’t until the beast had been subdued and Aunt Viv had managed to halt the damage, did I realize my mother hadn’t even bothered to look up from her plate.

  Chapter 3

  The only escape from the humdrum of Uriville was a small painted brick warehouse on Cherry Street, with a flashing neon sign in the front and tiny black painted windows. Known as the Jazz Club, it was a hangout for the twenty-somethings of town and didn’t even play jazz music. Ironic, I know. A staccato beat pumped through the speakers as Blythe, Raven, and I walked in, making a beeline for our usual table up the metal staircase and in the rafters.

  If anything could wash away today’s glum disappointments, an hour or so of uninterrupted dancing and sipping on a cold hard apple cider might do it. Then again, the Jazz Club had become a sort of magnet to hipsters residing in the nearby cities of Lincoln and Omaha. Tonight, more than a dozen people I didn’t recognize clogged up the dance floor and the various tables surrounding it.

  “Fresh meat,” Blythe squealed. She pointed across the room to a tall man standing next to the framed photograph of Billy Joel, sipping on an amber beer. He sported a casual long sleeve t-shirt and blue jeans. Rubbing a hand over his short brown hair and scruffy beard, he looked out of place amongst the dancers on the floor.

  Blythe never wasted time zeroing in on a target. Left behind in the dust were dozens of ex-boyfriends who never lasted longer than a month. Whether it was a fear of commitment or a restlessness that prodded her into breakup after breakup, I couldn’t be sure. After all, I wasn’t exactly great at commitment myself. None of the Brunicks were known for keeping around a man. My father had left before I was born. Blythe didn’t know who her father was and all Raven knew was that she’d inherited her Native features from him. Internally, I groaned at the prospect of another one of Blythe’s victims.

  “What do you think, Raven? He’s tall enough for you.”

  “What?” Raven spit out a little of her rum and coke and brushed it off her black leather pants. “Who, me?” Her bottle-green eyes followed the direction of Blythe’s finger and nearly choked again. “Um, so not my type.”

  Sometimes I wondered if Raven even had a type. I’d never seen her date anyone.

  “Oh.” Blythe’s smile faltered for only a nanosecond. “Well, less competition for Hazel and me.”

  Before I could protest, she shot out of our booth like a crab scuttling through a beach of seabirds. It didn’t take her long. Within three minutes, she’d led the poor man back to our booth, making him scoot in next to me.

  “Ladies, this is Drew Warring. He’s ex-military, just moved into the area, and 29 years old. Isn’t that right?”

  Drew eked out an uncomfortable smile. He had a thin, pleasant mouth and slightly crooked front teeth. His nose came to a sharp point below dark chocolate brown eyes. “Sounds about right. I’m renting a cabin along Lake Apolka. It’s only temporary.”

  Blythe squeaked and flapped her hands. “Oh, we live on the lake, too. Isn’t it divine? Such a beautiful place.”

  “Yeah, if you don’t believe the rumors.”

  Raven and I exchanged glances. We’d heard these rumors before.

  “You mean, that it’s haunted?” Blythe asked with her big blue eyes practically popping out of her head.

  “Yeah.” He flexed his jaw and frowned. “I guess people are afraid to go out there at night. Something about ghosts and weird lights. I’ve heard people talking about alien sightings. It’s crazy.”

  Raven’s mouth pulled down into a deep grimace that probably mirrored my own. The Brunick family knew only too well the cause of the lake’s haunting. Blame it on an old naked lady and her fondness for skinny dipping at night. Grammy Jo had resorted to magical projections and protection spells to keep wandering campers from stumbling upon her nightly escapades.

  I shivered at the gruesome picture in my head. Luckily, it hadn’t taken long for word to get around Uriville. Lake Apolka was haunted and it was safer to stay away.

  “That’s so scary,” Blythe whimpered. She huddled into Drew’s broad shoulder, letting her hair fall across her face in an alluring pose. Gosh, this girl was nothing if not a great actress. “I don’t know if I want to go out there anymore.”

  Drew puffed up his chest and looked down at her. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. I served in the military for eight years. If I can kill a man with my pinky finger, I can certainly protect you from some silly ghost.”

  She simpered and giggled into her pink cocktail, practically batting her eyelashes at him.

  A groan I hadn’t intended to release caught his attention and he looked expectantly at me. I stumbled to think of a way to recover. “So, Drew, any family in town?”

  Uriville wasn’t exactly the kind of place people just decided to move to, at least, in my mind.

  He coughed into his fist, his brown eyes staring resolutely at the table. “No, no family. My mom passed away from cancer last month. She was the only family I had left.”

  I choked on my drink, nearly spilling the rest into my lap. Leave it to me to ask the one question that could ruin the night for good. Luckily, Blythe was all over damage control. She practically launched herself into his lap, grabbing for his hands.

  “Oh, you poor baby.” If she leaned over any further, her chest was going to spill out of the generously cut top she’d picked out today. Drew didn’t seem to mind. “I can’t believe what you’ve been through. Come on, let’s go dance. That’ll take your mind off things.”

  With a quick disapproving glare directed my way, she pulled him out of the booth and down the stairs. A bump and grind kind of song came over the speakers just then, and they were lost in the tidal wave of dancers migrating to the floor.

  “I’m predicting another tragic romance story,” Raven said over her drink. Her voice was naturally low and husky, like that of an old Hollywood vixen. “Give it two weeks. She’ll be hopelessly in love and he’ll suddenly have to move out of town on business. Isn’t that how it always goes?”

  I laughed and nodded. Even though we’d moved away from Uriville a decade ago, Momma Tula and I had been back enough times that even I was familiar with my cousins’ peculiar habits. Raven, the shy olive-skinned owner of the town hardware store, and Blythe, the excitable bouncing blonde wedding planner. It was hard to know where I fit into all of this. They’d spent their entire lives here. To me, it was just a bump in the road.

  And speaking of bumps in the road, my gaze had just landed on Ian Larson sitting twenty feet away. Dressed in a black hoodie and jeans, he lounged alone and nursed a beer, his eyes scanning over the crowded dance floor below. My blood boiled at the sight of him, the ticket fresh in my memory. Excusing myself to Raven, I slid from the booth, drink in hand, and marched his way.

  “Are you always on duty or is patrolling people just a hobby of yours?”

  He looked up from the dance floor and frowned. “Actually, I am off duty. I guess you decided to leave the pig at home?”

  I slid into the booth next to him. My habit of arguing with Ian Larson had started when we were children and picked right back up the moment I moved back into town. I couldn’t help myself. “Actually, Kat decided to stay at home himself. Lazy little creature. He needs a whole 14 hours of sleep a night or else he’s just unbearable to live with. You can’t imagine.”

  A grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. “No, I can’t.

  “Seriously, though, doesn’t policing this small town ever get boring? I mean, the worst that ever happens here is a cat getting stuck in a tree. Or an illegal pet pig. How can you stand it?”

  Maybe I was being a little condescending, but I didn’t care. Another few drinks of my hard cider and I’d let the
insults fly free. He could take it and dish it just as well.

  “I don’t find it boring.” He took a long sip of his beer, sighing contently when it was finished. “Uriville’s my home. It’s always been that way. You know that. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.”

  Maybe I was projecting my own feelings about this town on everyone else, but I simply couldn’t understand his answer. “Really? Even though you could travel sixty miles in either direction from this place and get some real action? I heard Omaha even deals with mob crimes once in a while. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

  His eyes twinkled with amusement as he sunk further into the plastic covered booth. “Maybe for someone else, but like I said, Uriville’s my home. There’s no place I’d rather be.”

  I dropped my empty cider glass on the table in front of us and crossed my arms. “Well, I really can’t relate. I’d rather be any place but here.”

  He turned toward me, our knees bumping. A flush filled my cheeks at the unexpected brief contact and I had to swallow hard to keep my heart from jumping out of my chest.

  “You’ll learn to love it here, I promise. It just takes some time. Uriville could use someone like you, Hazy. Don’t write it off so quickly.”

  Wait, I’d come here to chew him out about my pig situation. And now he was complimenting me? His grin, with its perfectly straight teeth and ornery tilt, was too close. His knee only centimeters from my own. My comfort zone had taken a nosedive into sweaty nervous territory.

  Hopping up suddenly from the booth, I banged my knee on the table in the process. Bouncing on one leg and grasping the other with my hand, I backed away from Ian with my face scrunched up in pain.

  “Are you okay?” He leaned forward, reaching out for my knee.

  “I think I see Raven and Blythe dancing.” A glance over the railing to the dancefloor below confirmed the excuse. My cousins had taken up the middle of the floor, swaying their bodies to the beat, and were already surrounded by a handful of mesmerized young men. Drew Warring stood among them. “I better go find them.”