by Ann Denton
Mom and Rain don’t look angry that I’m late. Score one for the peaceful theory. And they dig into the scones and donuts I’ve brought.
“Why isn’t anyone else here?” Rain asks, looking around the deserted space.
“Oh, well, this year, the fountain’s pretty close to the troll orgy space, if I read the ley-line map correctly. I have to guard that tomorrow night, actually—”
“What? You have to work?” My mother sets down her scone.
“Yeah. Low woman on the totem pole. I have to work holidays.”
“You didn’t bother telling us this before?”
I take a deep breath and try to get back that peaceful feeling. “I was assigned tonight. We’ve also been kind of busy since you arrived. Which, again, I’m sorry about.”
Rain waves me off. “But we can come see you tomorrow, right?”
I arch an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Lyon, the power up!”
I cock my head. “That’s just a silly old tradition.”
My mother purses her lips. “If it’s so silly, why do brownies and dwarves come out of the woodwork to gather any excess power we fae create, huh?”
“Why do you put glitter on your wings every Hallow’s Eve even though it messes up your flight aerodynamics? Why do we sneak up on human children and scare the heck out of them? Why sing carols about swapping babies or hauntings? Put out candy? Tradition.”
“These things are thousands of years old for a reason, Lyon,” Mom lectures.
“Look, we’re eating together tonight, right? And I picked this spot because the ley line runs under that dwarf statue right there,” I point to a dancing dwarf on the opposite side of the fountain.
“That’s not good enough, Lyon. And you know it.”
“It’s never good enough with you.”
Mom finishes her scone and stands, crumpling a napkin in her fist. “You’ll just have to tell your boss you will need to step out for a bit.”
“Are you crazy? I can’t do that!”
“Why not? You’re dating him, aren’t you?”
“No. I’m not. I stopped dating him when I took this job.”
“Well that’s just stupid of you.”
“You think everything I do is stu—stu—you know,” I snarl, frustrated that she can say that word and I can’t.
My mother glares down at me. And I can feel the guilt spell start to swirl into my stomach. Lightning crackles around her head, like an evil demon’s halo. “You will come with us tomorrow night, Lyon Fox. I am your mother.”
My knees scrape against the sidewalk as the guilt spell bows me over. I dunno if it’s the ley line or she’s just literally snapped, but my entire body vibrates with the spell coursing through me. It’s like she’s figured out how to electrify it. Merge her lightning and her guilt. It mother-effing hurts.
I open my mouth to scream, but instead, what comes out is this: “You stopped being my mother when you abandoned me with dad twenty years ago. You lost the right to guilt spell me.”
The pain in my entire body stops.
It’s replaced by a familiar burning sensation in my right leg.
Both my mother and Rain stare at me in horror as my right leg transforms into a chicken leg.
My sister’s the first to speak. “What the actual fu—”
“Have you been hiding powers from me?” My mother’s in my face, eyes blazing.
“You call this a power?” I gesture at my leg.
“I call it an embarrassment.”
“Well, then, yeah. Been hiding it from you. Gonna guilt spell me about it?”
Her face contorts. And I think she tries.
She can’t.
It’s a frickin’ Halloween miracle.
She grabs Rain and flies off into the night sky, not even bothering to help me figure out how I’m gonna get home as a half-chicken.
All I feel … is elation. Tears well up in my eyes.
Did that really just happen?
This fountain is now my favorite spot in the whole city. The fountain where dreams come true.
Chapter 15
I lay back on the concrete, staring at the stars. Dawn’s getting close. I need to get home and sleep. But I can’t walk with the chicken leg.
I wish Jacob were still in town. He’d shift to a coyote and give me a ride. Probably yell at my mom for the way she treats me. He did that last time she came to town. She resents our relationship because he’s not a blood relative. She can kiss my chicken butt.
I think about calling JR. She’s probably still getting over everything. I don’t want my first call to her to be for a favor.
Bennett. I debate internally. Should I? Would I call Flowers for something like this? Actually, right now I think I’d rather call Flowers because I’m a big poop-head who just can’t seem to find happiness with a guy who’s nothing but nice.
My finger hovers indecisively over Flower’s number.
I hear footsteps. I glance up.
Maybe I got some of the fountain sand in my eye. I must have. I must be dreaming. Because standing over me is Luke, in a button up shirt (that begs to be ripped off his chest) and black slacks.
Only, Luke wouldn’t be frowning in my dreams. He’d be sweeping me off my feet. Tearing at my clothes. Peppering my neck with kisses.
I gulp and come to the realization that this is not a dream.
“Lyon … are you okay?”
Tears fill my eyes. And that just ticks me off. Of course, he has to see me like this. I’m surprised he’s not taking photos of me for the Crypts. They like pranks right? Mean ones. Scary ones.
“What happened?”
His concern stabs my chest like a dagger. I shake my head. I don’t want to talk to him. Not after I know for sure he’s a Crypt. Not after seeing him with Cookie. Knowing that he pulled me close only to slap me down. Then lied about it. Acted all innocent. Why? Psychological torture. That’s why. Probably for the Georgina thing. Not my fault I got knocked out and set up for his ex’s murder. I just don’t see why else he’d hate me. I open my mouth to ask, but then shut it. I mean, do you really want to hear all the reasons someone you like hates you? Does it even matter? I can’t change it, anyway.
“Damn it! They did this to you, didn’t they? And left you on my path home? I’m so sorry.” He crouches near me and tries to grab my hand.
I jerk away. What the heck is this? Another game?
He flinches when I jerk away. He stands and takes a step back, giving me distance. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.” His eyes bore into mine. And for a second, I think he means it.
“Can you get home like that?”
I don’t get up, but I crane my neck so I can stare down at my chicken leg, willing it away. It stays. Of course, it stays. Do I really have to ask Luke for help? Him? Of all people?
“Do you want me to call Mrs. Snow for you?” Luke asks softly.
Mrs. Snow! Why didn’t I think of her? I nod, even though I flip through my contacts for her number.
“I’ve got it.” Luke holds up a hand to stop me. He’s already got his phone to his ear. He walks a few steps away and talks to Mrs. Snow. I can’t hear everything he says, but a few words like “attacked” and “PTSD” drift my way.
He thinks someone did this to me?
Before I can process that, Luke turns back. His eyes look sad, like a puppy. Like he’s hurting. It makes me feel like I should be reaching out to comfort him, instead of the other way around. I open my mouth, so I can talk to him like a grown up. Which maybe I should have done in the first place. But he shakes his head.
“I can’t stay,” he says. “I don’t want them to see us together and do anything else. Sarah’s on her way. She’ll be here really soon. Lyon … I’m so, so sorry for whatever happened. For everything that’s happened. I just—wish things were different.”
In a flash, he’s gone. Only the dancing leaves on the trees at the edge of the fountain leave any trace that he was here.
Maybe I do have PTSD. Because Luke running away from me triggers a whole new round of tears. This time, big fat ugly ones that come with a side of wheezing moans. Because I’m pretty sure my ribs just broke and stabbed my heart. What the hell? Why’s he acting thoughtful now? What’s going on?
“What are you doing throwing a fit on the ground like a three-year-old?” a familiar voice barks.
“Tabby, lay off. Look at the poor thing,” Sarah Snow chides.
The women crouch on either side of me and heave me into a sitting position. They are far stronger than they look.
“So, your leg again, huh?” Tabby asks.
“Shh … Tabby, now is not the time,” Sarah hisses over me, like I can’t hear her if she grits her teeth and stage whispers.
“Well, don’t we need to tell her—”
“Luke says she was attacked. The only thing she needs is to get home right now. And rest.” Sarah struggles to help me stand all the way up. Reluctantly, Tabby straightens her thick glasses and then helps.
“Ok, dear, you just lean on Tabby and I’ll get our ride.”
I lean on Tabby’s shoulder to help keep my balance. But I try not to put too much weight on the tiny shifter. She’s petite underneath that shapeless mumu dress she’s wearing.
“You did this to yourself, right?” Tabby asks, as soon as Sarah’s out of earshot.
“Yeah.”
“Good. Okay, I wanted to let you know what I found—”
“Actually, you know I saw you at the restaurant, right?”
“Yes, but I followed Luke after that. And you didn’t hear—”
I shake my head. “Right now, I don’t want to hear anything else. I might have done this stupid chicken leg thing to myself, but I was pushed into a kraken tank tonight and fought with my mother. Then saw Luke. I’m still not sure which of those was worse. But I’m beyond exhausted.” And it’s true. As I stand there, my eyes start to involuntarily close. I think my body has officially reached its stress maximum for any given twenty-four-hour timeframe.
“Fine, we’ll talk in the morning.”
Sarah comes around the corner of the nearest building in a golf cart. With her prim little side-perched hat (Sarah’s always dressed like she’s ready for the debutante’s ball) she looks funny driving the bouncing little cart.
“Is that street-legal?” I ask, as she parks next to me.
“Would you give a sweet little old lady like me a ticket?” she bats her eyes.
“Well, no, I wouldn’t, but—”
“Exactly,” Sarah winks and loads me up. “Come on, sugar. I’ve got a hot chocolate with your name on it waiting at home.”
Tabby climbs into the passenger’s side and then I’m squished between the two of them.
Sarah pulls away from the fountain.
“Where’d you get this cart, anyway?”
Tabby pats my hand. “That’s strictly need-to-know. And you don’t need to know.”
My stomach sinks. I bury my face in my hands and pray we don’t drive by any cops tonight. “It’s stolen, isn’t it?”
“Oh, go on you!” Sarah scolds Tabby. She takes a hand off the wheel to pat my hand and we nearly plow into a couple of red-horned demons rigging a sign for a Hell House. “Tabby likes to scare you a bit.”
Tabby rolls her eyes. “Fine. It’s mine.”
I turn to her. “Yours?”
“Yes, Miss Priss.”
“Tabby owns the Blue Water Golf Course.”
“Keep your voice down!” Tabby shushes.
I stare at Tabby in disbelief. “I thought you were retired.”
Tabby shakes her head. “Gotta support myself through nine lives somehow.”
“But, golf?”
“Lyon, there are a few truths that don’t change with each generation. And one of them is that men like to play with their balls.”
I ponder that deep truth as we drive home.
I don’t bother going upstairs to see my mom or Rain when we get back. Instead I snuggle into the loveseat at Sarah’s place, pushing aside a doily on the arm of the couch so I can rest my head. Sarah should have been my mother. She’s amazing. She’s in the kitchen, magically tossing together hot chocolate and lemon cake, so that we can have a ‘snack’ in five minutes. Only southerners think of cake as a little snack. I heart her so much.
“Can I just move in here?”
“No way. I called dibs on roommates,” Tabby answers.
“You own a golf course!”
“So?”
“So, you don’t need a roommate.”
“Who said anything about need?” Tabby sniffs. “I just said I have dibs.” She yawns. “Sarah, mind if I stay over tonight?”
“No, make yourself at home. Extra toothbrushes in the second drawer of the bathroom,” Sarah calls from the kitchen.
“Extra toothbrushes?” I ask.
Sarah peeks her head around the corner. “For gentleman callers, of course. Or damsels in distress like yourselves.”
Tabby rolls her eyes as Sarah goes back to her spelled cooking. “I’m not in distress. I’m just too lazy to go home right now.”
I whisper to Tabby. “I bet all those toothbrushes are left from the seventies!”
“Lyon Fox!” Sarah roars from the kitchen. “I will spit in your hot chocolate! So help me!”
“That’ll just make it sweeter,” I call back. “Cause it’s a gift from you!”
Sarah pops around the corner again to wave her ladle at me. But she’s smiling.
Tabby laughs and winks. “I’ll go ‘investigate’ these toothbrushes.”
I burrow further into the couch. I nod off. The next thing I know, soft fur is brushing against my fingertips. I crack open my eyes. Tabby’s shifted. She cuddles me in her orange tabby cat form. I slide my hand around her, and immediately fall back asleep.
When I wake up on Sarah’s couch, I’ve got a stiff neck, a furry shirt, and no chicken leg. Thank goodness. There’s also no warm cuddly cat at my side.
Sarah sets down tea and muffins on the coffee table.
I rub my eyes and sit up. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sleep here last night.”
“Well, I’m not. That mother of yours didn’t even bother to leave to go check on you all day. I opened my curtains and watched, waiting for her to realize you hadn’t come home. Not a peep from your place. But I heard them on the stairs about half an hour ago. Getting ready to fly back to the hospital to check on that fae fellow.”
I shrug. I’m not really surprised. I grab a tea cup. “That’s pretty much their norm. So, what are you doing tonight?”
“Well, after I make sure you bathe—because you really are disgusting, sweetie—I’m going to get back to my reconnaissance.” She jerks her head toward the crystal ball that’s lit up on her small, round dining table. “Did you know that selkie woman’s done gone crazy? Every few hours she takes this big lumpy package and moves it around. She’s put it in air vents, broom closets, under beds, in a big water tank—”
“Wait, what? What kind of package?”
“I dunno, this big lumpy thing all tied up with string.”
“What color is it?”
“Grey.”
I nearly drop my tea cup. “Are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure. Been watching it most of the day. Had some insomnia—”
I interrupt. “Could it have been her coat? The coat that allows her to turn into a seal?”
Sarah thinks, “Well I suppose so, yes. That would make sense, right? She wouldn’t want anyone to find it.”
I stand up. “How’d she get it, though? Unless she murdered Zanno.” I breathe a sigh of relief that at least we picked Nancy up yesterday. She’s in custody.
I grab my phone to text Bennett and Flowers about the coat. There are thirty texts on it already. It’s not even five p.m.
I open Bennett’s text first. Get to the office now. V3 found.
What? What does that mean?
I’m too c
hicken to call Bennett directly so I call Flowers as I read the other texts from Seena, Becca, Petey.
“Where are you?” Flowers barks.
“I just woke up.”
“Get down here now. They found a third vic. Not quite dead, but totally humanized. The mayor’s on his way.”
Flowers hangs up before he tells me where here is.
Luckily, my text from Seena is more informative. I need to get to the hospital. Like, now.
Shit. Well, then that shoots a hole in my selkie dunnit theory.
A third victim at the hospital. My mom and sister are there!
“What time did you say my family left?”
“Half an hour ago.”
I check Bennett’s text. It’s from eighteen minutes ago. A chill runs up my spine. I dial Rain’s number. It goes directly to voicemail. Doesn’t even ring.
I dial my mom. I get cut off after two rings. Like she pressed that stupid ignore button.
My relief outweighs my annoyance.
I look up at Mrs. Snow. “You don’t happen to have any enchantments to slow time enough for me to take a shower, do you?”
“No. Sorry, sugar.” She purses her lips and taps her chin. “Although … I do have a spell to get the princess ready for the ball.”
My shoulders sag. “You’re serious?”
“Yes. It was all the rage back in my teen years. Getting ready for cotillion.”
“I can still wear real clothes?”
“Oh, yes.”
I run up to my apartment and change into black jeans and a black t-shirt. I toss my badge and cuffs in my back pockets. I scurry back down to Mrs. Snow’s. She’s waiting on her stoop.
I close my eyes and spread my arms. “Hit me.”
Chapter 16
Note to self: when allowing a seventy-something-year-old woman to put beauty spells from her teens on you, look up said era beforehand.
