by CC Dragon
“That’s crazy. You’re not gypsies. Don’t compare your lifestyle to theirs,” I said.
“Exactly, you’re not getting married until you’re done with college. I have nothing against homemakers or stay-at-home moms, but men don’t always stick around, and you need to be able to take care of yourself,” my aunt said.
“Gypsy men stick around. But that’s not the life I want for you. Block those girls,” Vinny ordered.
“But they’re our cousins. Your nieces,” Iris said.
“We sort of grew up with them,” Vi agreed.
“You don’t need them if they aren’t respecting your life choices. You haven’t attacked theirs,” my aunt insisted.
“I get it,” I said softly.
“You do?” Vinny asked.
I nodded. “I don’t have siblings. I couldn’t cut you guys off if you went full-on gypsy. I’d miss you guys. Family is important. The less you have, the more you see it. Just ignore their attitude and be happy they’re happy. You define happy differently. When your weddings come along, you’ll be the star of the show, and nothing will be more important. You won’t rub it in anyone else’s faces, but your single friends still might feel a little jealous. Just think long term. The wedding is one day. Then, they’re wives. They’ll have a bunch of kids and be tied down to cooking and cleaning for the next twenty years.”
The twins smiled.
“They’ll have stretch marks before they’re twenty,” Iris said.
“Kindness,” my aunt said.
“So, are we invited to the wedding?” I asked.
Vinny shrugged. “They are my nieces. Yes. But we don’t have to go.”
They gypsies hadn’t really accepted my aunt or the twins because they didn’t adopt the gypsy lifestyle. We’d been to a few weddings and parties for gypsy relations, depending on how close Uncle Vin was with them. I couldn’t believe he’d snub his own nieces.
“I don’t have to go. I know I don’t really belong, but you guys should go,” I said.
“I could always have to work,” my aunt offered.
“No, we all should go. Claudia, bring a date. It’ll make them crazy,” Violet said with a grin.
“You bring a date,” I said.
“That would look bad. Disrespectful,” Vinny said.
I rolled my eyes.
“Vi and Iris are my daughters. If I let them run wild, I’m a bad father. You’re my niece and a Gorger. You have no gypsy blood, at all. You can bring a date,” Vin replied.
“What’s with the dating push? Esme is nagging. Now, you guys?” I asked.
“You are obsessing about Mrs. O’Conner. And your life is all about the coffee shop. You need a life,” Violet said.
“I have a life. The coven and the coffee shop are all that matter. I have a hunter in the basement. I have a dead customer. That’s a lot.” I pushed pasta around my plate.
My aunt refilled our glasses of iced tea. “You need a love life. Esme said there is a nice and very strong wizard in that Killean family.”
“They’re recluses. I heard they’re all ugly,” Iris said.
“That’s not true. Crazy old rumors,” I replied.
My aunt and the twins shared a smile. I’d walked into that one.
“You’ve met him?” Vin asked.
“He came into the coffee shop. Apparently, he keeps vampire hours. He was nice but a bit full of himself. What does Esme know about him, anyway?” I asked.
“She’s been doing some private classes for some new or young witches. The coven classes are for everyone, powerful or not. She has some other clients,” my aunt said.
“Why didn’t she tell me that?” I asked.
“You have enough on your plate. You don’t need to do private tutoring. Your skills are still developing.” My aunt began clearing plates.
I helped her and felt better alone in the kitchen.
“Am I ignoring something?” I asked her.
“You’ve always had your own path and gifts. I never would’ve imagined you’d use the money your mother left you to open a coffee shop. If you want to follow this death case, there is a reason. You don’t want to neglect your personal happiness either.” She dished out a hot pan of brownies. “I know you’re afraid.”
I grabbed the vanilla bean ice cream from the freezer, then the scoop from the drawer. “Afraid?”
“You lost your parents young. You were loved, but you’re afraid of letting more people in because they could hurt you. As long as you have those walls up, your power can’t expand, and you won’t really be happy. The twins can’t understand, but I do. I lost my sister.” She pinched my cheek.
“I can’t rush into a relationship because you and Esme like some guy’s powers,” I said.
She nodded. “I’m not pushing you toward anyone. But he would understand your life more than a human man. You wouldn’t like a hunter either. Certainly not a gypsy.”
“You’re right.” I followed her out into the dining room, and we served dessert.
* * *
As I entered the coffee shop, I was still thinking about how well my aunt knew me. A man without powers or gifts would bore me. A gypsy would make me want to argue gender roles. A hunter would make me question every kill he made. My dating pool of interesting men was extremely small.
Was I really that narrow-minded? A human might be interesting enough. I liked humans. There were plenty in my coven without powers.
Esme was coming up from the basement as I was passing through the main area.
“How was dinner?” she asked.
“Fine. You should’ve come,” I said. Aunt Mandy always invited Esme and tried to make her feel like family. She was distantly a cousin of my mother and aunt.
“No, I’m a loner by nature. I did have a word with that hunter. He keeps trying to use the phones and get out. I’ve put a magical perimeter up for the night,” she said.
“Thanks. So, are you giving private lessons to a Killean? Is that why you want me to go out with Bran?” I asked.
She smiled. “Bran?”
“I’ve met him. My aunt mentioned your private lessons. Does Bran have a sister?” I asked.
“No, he has a younger brother, but he doesn’t need my help. They have a cousin staying with them, now. Her parents are traveling in Europe, and she wanted to try the college thing. She’s nineteen but a freshman. She took a year off. Her magic needs work. She has powers, but her parents thought everything she did was perfect and didn’t really push her.”
“The way you pushed me?” I teased her.
“Exactly. She needs work, but her ego is so fragile.” Esme sighed.
“That’s a shame. There’s always more to learn and always someone stronger, so ego is a bad thing to get wrapped up in.” I was taught young that hard work and intention mattered. If I let my powers go to my head, a stronger witch would put me in my place. There was a pecking order and rules to the witching world.
“How’s your human death case, Nancy Drew?” Esme asked.
I laughed. “I always liked a good mystery. But I’m stuck. No one with motive had access. They weren’t in her home that night. There was nothing found on the tox, so it had to be done fairly quickly to her. Maybe my spell was wrong?”
Esme frowned. “I don’t think so. The light left the room. Someone out there has some culpability but it might not be in the way you think. It may be beyond someone actually murdering her. She could’ve been driven to it. Something could’ve been planted or messed with in her home. I still wish I knew who threatened Mrs. O’Conner. We need to keep order or things will get worse.”
“Worse?” I asked.
“At times, humans think they must root us out. Protest and convert us. They fear us. Then, there are times when the witches feel they are stronger and they should teach humans a lesson about history and crossing people with more powers. Right now, it feels like both sides are posturing for a fight. Conservatives taking over the country. But supernatural forces are al
igning. Our powers are stronger. You are vulnerable and incredibly important.”
“That’s why you want me married to a powerful wizard? Backup?” I asked.
“I’m not pushing you to do anything as serious as marriage. But networking with the powerful wouldn’t hurt you. You look too sympathetic to humans. People understand because of your parents and who ended up raising you. But they want you to understand who you are. Who your mother was. What your true potential is. Spending time with the Killean brothers would help. The younger one is currently studying vampires in Romania, but he’ll be back in a month or so. You might like him better. He’s the same age as you and more adventurous. Bran can be a real homebody.” Esme shrugged.
“How do I socialize with them? I mean, I have a coven,” I said.
“Old witch and wizard families don’t join covens. They don’t need to. They throw parties, meet at certain clubs, and network among their own kind. I’ll bring you along next time. You’re ready. I didn’t want to upset you before,” she replied.
“Upset me? Sounds like these people are more like me.” I smiled.
“Yes and no. They were raised with magic to an extreme. They wouldn’t marry a human or do things the human way. You probably washed the dishes at your aunt’s house by hand,” she said.
I shook my head. “It was the twins’ turn. I see what you mean, though. I’ll feel like I’m behind. I already do. I should’ve been able to use those spells and find the killer.”
“Human and paranormal worlds converging makes things much trickier. We’ll open an inquiry into the threats to Mrs. O’Conner. That might help rule out witches or wizards. But it might be a human customer or Wiccan coven member who did it. Threats are easy. That would be a very human thing to do,” she said.
“You’re right. But if we can find out who did that, I’ll feel a little better. Some answers. I still need to talk to the grandson.” I was dreading it. The kid’s online presence was smug and rotten.
“You think a kid killed his grandmother? That’s a long shot. Even with a human. But stranger things have happened, I suppose.”
I picked out a tea bag. I needed something to warm me up. “Even if he noticed anything about her feeling ill at dinner. I could try talking to Mr. O’Conner, but he’s our resident protester. He probably won’t say a word.”
She poured us two cups of hot water, and we dunked our tea bags. “Can’t hurt to talk to anyone, but minors are tricky. That can you get you into trouble. Now, let’s talk about how to figure out who threatened Mrs. O’Conner…”
17
I staked out the library and hoped Harry Stevens would follow his routine. With his grandmother’s death, anything was possible. Esme was right. Bothering minors was probably a bad idea. The kid had, no doubt, been instructed not to talk to anyone, like the rest of his family. But his social media proved he was easily baited. He complained about his interfering family and being diabetic. I mentioned to the librarian that I was looking for him, so hopefully she’d help me out.
I browsed the sections on witch history, which was bigger than most since the history was local and true.
“You’re that coffee lady,” a young guy behind me said.
I turned and saw the kid I was after. “True. You’ve been in my shop.” He had been in with a bunch of his friends. Kids always wanted to act older. I hit him with a curiosity spell, so he’d keep talking.
“Yep. I like the frozen drinks better. Too cold, now. Then again, you pissed off my grandma. Grandpa is still mad. I know you talked to my mom,” he said.
“And you’re okay talking to me?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Grandma was a pain. Don’t blame yourself. But I don’t know anything.”
“You had dinner with her that night. She seemed fine?” I asked.
He nodded. “Nagging and complaining, as always. She wanted me to get an insulin pump because I kept forgetting my shots. It’s not like I’m a baby. I’m not disabled.”
“Hardly. There are much worse things to have. Some kids have cancer. Managing that isn’t really in anyone’s control.” I shrugged.
He gave me a funny look. “So, I should be grateful I don’t have a worse disease? You sound just like Grandma.”
“Should I be flattered or insulted?” I chuckled. “She just wanted you healthy. When grownups can’t control things, it makes them crazy. My aunt still insists on brewing me this anti-stress tea, at times. Whether I want it or not.”
“Why do you let her? You could just pick up and move away. Not be nagged,” he said.
“My parents died when I was little. She’s all I’ve got in the mom department. And when I am sick or stressed, it’s nice that someone cares. So, you don’t want the insulin pump?” I wanted to get him talking and relaxed. Maybe he’d let something slip.
“Do you think I want guys seeing that when I change for gym? I want to play sports, too. Girls don’t think about the locker room. That thing makes me look like a wimp. Plus, everything I do has to go through the doctor. My mom is fussy enough. How did I get Type 1, and my mom didn’t, but Grandma had it? How is that fair?”
I shook my head. “Not fair. Life sucks, at times. Like, now, you’ll have to go to a funeral. I promise, one day you’ll miss your grandma’s nagging. Maybe not for a long time, but you will. I just wish I knew how convince your grandfather I had nothing to do with it. My coffee shop isn’t behind something.”
“Yeah. Mom said there was nothing on the tox screen. You’d think that’d be enough. Grandma had a lot of meds and issues. Until the final guy signs off and says what killed her, Grandpa won’t believe anything else. Sorry.”
The kid was less of a jerk than I thought. Certainly less cocky than he came off on social media.
“Thanks. At least not everyone in your family thinks my shop is evil.” I smiled.
“My mom brews her own coffee at home and thinks buying fancy coffee is overpriced, but she doesn’t think your place sucks.”
“Thanks. Well, I’m sorry about your grandma. I hope the police determine the cause, and everyone can move on. It just seems odd that she was fine all day long and then suddenly died. But I guess that’s life and death.” I shrugged.
He nodded. “She did get confused, sometimes.”
“Confused?” I asked.
He frowned. “Not like Alzheimer’s confused. She always knew who we were and who she was. She took a sleeping pill, and sometimes, she’d forget what time it was and call at two in the morning. Or go online and buy shoes. Or make a bunch of cookies and eat them. She never remembered it. Grandpa had to check her blood sugar and everything to be safe. The docs tried to get her off that sleeping pill, but the insomnia was worse. Now, if you’re so smart, tell me how to avoid this damn insulin pump.”
I shifted my weight to one leg and propped a hand on my hip. “The best way to get adults to back off is show you can handle it the way it is. Test your blood on a routine, eat right, and take the shots on time and all that crap without complaint or slip up. All your mom cares about is your health. If doing it that way is too much of a hassle, you might decide the pump would be better. The other kids probably already know you’re diabetic if you’re testing and injecting. More kids will know, and girls talk. The pump might actually cut down on it. I’d look at both sides and decide what’s best for your social life.”
He half-smiled. “I didn’t think about that. People do notice at lunch and stuff.”
“And if you’re on a team? I don’t know how that all works, but sometimes, practices go long or there are tournament days when you play a few games. It could be safer with a pump regulating you instead of risking it. If you want to be a jock, less dependence on the testing and injections can’t hurt.” I smiled.
He stared at me for a second as though rolling over my advice in his head. “Maybe you’re right. My mom would fuss less, which helps. Thanks. I have to get going.” He headed down the aisle of books.
The kid was about image. He w
ouldn’t hurt someone, but he resented his grandmother for sharing the disease. Maybe I was chasing crazy leads.
* * *
Mr. O’Conner was outside the café, again, protesting. I cast a warming spell on him. Truthfully, he wasn’t making much of a dent in our customer base, anymore. We’d put notices out on social media, explaining the situation. Most of our customers came back, yet this man persisted.
I watched him from inside.
“Want me to call the police?” Esme asked.
“No. Let him learn we won’t play his game, anymore.” I removed the warming spell. “He can go home or stay. No more babying him. He may be grieving, but he can’t keep blaming us. The results will be in soon enough, and we can all move on.”
“No luck with the grandson?” she asked.
“He didn’t do it and knows nothing. He mentioned she takes a lot of meds. It might be natural. Find any suspects for the threats?” I asked.
“Not really. Some solo witches may have heard about the insult. They sometimes come in here. But there’s no way to prove it. It’d just be questioning people. They’d all deny it and resent us for doubting them. We need more proof or a confession before we accuse anyone. Your reputation has taken enough of a hit. I’ll ask around to my connections, but I don’t want to look like we’re on a witch hunt. I know it was my idea, but we can’t go about it the way you’re chasing down humans like they’re suspects. We have to be more subtle,” she said.
“Unless they were here, they’d have to have heard it from someone who was. Ugh. I don’t want to think about this, anymore. I feel like I’ve followed every logical angle and found nothing. Maybe it is all nothing. Natural causes and some hollow threats. I’m worried for nothing. Or I missed something.” I sank into a chair.
