by Molly Fitz
"The last thing I wanted to do was distract you from your studies. I thought I could handle everything myself. When M4 made me an offer I couldn't refuse, well, I couldn't refuse it."
"What's M4?"
"The Mulberry Mountain Moonshiners Mafia. I became their best dealer in the area of herbal medicines, but then you came to live with me and I gave up that lifestyle."
"What do you mean by 'herbal medicines?'" I put air quotes around the last two words as I repeated them. "Echinacea? Primrose? Chamomile?"
Aunt Corliss gave a dramatic sniff and raised her chin to look down her nose at me. "It's kale that I feed with a proprietary blend of herbs and powders."
"Oh, my glitter. Aunt Corliss, you magic people's kale?" This news baffled me, because there wasn't enough magic in the world to convince me to eat the leafy greens.
"Only a little." She rolled her eyes and tilted her head. "Although I never expected it to come to all this."
"And what does M4 do with this magical kale, pray tell?"
"Their original request was for something that would help them make twice the moonshine in half the time while eliminating the sulphuric smell that resulted from speeding the process."
"That's it? So, why are you here?" I repeated as relief surged through me.
"They asked me to tweak my recipe so they could give their moonshine special properties to fit whatever a situation called for at the time."
"What kind of properties?"
"Temporary paralysis, invisibility, truth serum, the usual tools that might be useful for a mafia to have at its fingertips. Don't worry, Zip. I turned them down and told them, 'This granny doesn't use that kind of witchcraft.'"
"I thought you only sold things like ginseng and turmeric to the pharmacy in town."
"I do, hon, but sometimes I sell higher-end products to my more elite customers. Although the extra money has been nice, I may have to rethink that decision."
I lowered my voice. "Speaking of money, I have the payment for that delivery."
"You have it with you?" Her eyes went wide.
"Yes. It's all right here in my purse. But it's ridiculous for us to sit here doing nothing. We have to get help." I reached for my phone but the back pocket of my jeans was still empty. Then realization struck. The phone must still be back at the shack with Jones. "Oh, no!"
"What is it, hon?"
Tears burned the backs of my eyes. "Jones is at the moonshiner's shack."
"Did he go there with you?"
"No. He showed up later. He was at the house when someone threw that rock through the window."
Aunt Corliss raised an eyebrow. "He was? Interesting. I do hope he's all right."
"Listen, we have to get out of here, find a landline, or something. Jones needs our help. Are you coming with me?" I stood and took two steps toward the front door when it swung open.
The goon had returned, and this time, he brought friends in the form of a second goon and a shiny black handgun.
"Where do you think you're going? You get right back on that sofa," he snarled. When I didn't budge, he waved the gun around and screamed, "Now!"
"You do whatever you want to me, but you leave my niece alone!" Aunt Corliss demanded. "She had no part of this!"
"She's here now, and that makes her part of it."
Aunt Corliss was as protective over me as my parents were, but I wouldn't let any harm come to the woman who had raised me after their deaths.
"Look, over there!" I pointed toward the stairs. When the goon with the gun spun his head in that direction, I stood and prepared to tackle him.
A click drew my attention away from the first goon at the same time that a red dot danced across my chest. I followed the source of the dot to the gun in the second goon's hand and froze in place.
"Should've listened," the second goon said.
Right about then, I was sure that the next breath I took would be my last.
But when it looked like we had zero chance of making it out of the mansion alive, red and blue flashing lights streamed through the front door's cathedral window pane.
A male voice, its volume amplified through a speaker, ordered everyone out of the house with their hands up. When the goons didn't move, the voice added, "You should know that we're prepared to force our way inside the home!"
"Boss ain't gonna like this," the second goon said.
The first goon returned his gun to the holster attached to his belt. "Don't matter what the boss likes. Going back to jail beats dying."
The first goon went to the door, opened it at a snail's pace, and raised his hands, palms out. Giving up his right to remain silent, he announced, "Don't hurt me! I didn't do nuffin!"
It did not take long for the second goon to follow suit, and soon, only Aunt Corliss and I remained.
I fell onto the sofa, and she wasted no time hugging me tight. As I sobbed into her shoulder, I heard my aunt say, "You did such a great job, Zip. I knew you would."
Chapter Twelve
The police questioned us into the wee hours of the morning. Throughout the interrogation, I learned that Aunt Corliss had a long and storied history with the Mulberry Mountain Moonshiners Mafia. She stopped helping them when I came to live with her, but when they approached her for help during my senior year of college, she went straight to the feds.
And I, as it turned out, was her clueless sidekick. The stacks of hundred dollar bills—which turned out to be counterfeits—held a tracking device. The federal agents knew where I was from the moment that I made that bogus delivery.
When we were at last allowed to leave the mansion, I was happily surprised to find the pickup truck parked outside.
"Oh, if you aren't a sight for sore eyes," I said and patted its faded hood. "Let's go home."
"Were you talking to me or the truck?" Aunt Corliss asked.
"You, of course," I said aloud. Then I mentally tacked on, And maybe a little bit to the truck.
For the entire ride home, I tried to find a way to warn Aunt Corliss that we now not only owned a second pet, but also that both animals could talk. I was no closer to letting the cat out of the bag when I pulled the truck into the driveway next to Jones's vehicle.
"Oh, no! Jones was back at that moonshiner's shack!" One possible scenario after another ran through my mind, each with a more terrifying outcome than the one before.
Aunt Corliss laid a hand on my arm. "He's inside, Zip. Let's go join him."
"Okay, but there's something I have to tell—" I began, but the sound of the passenger door on the truck shutting behind her cut me off. I hurried to catch up to her and managed to reach the front door first. After panting a few times to catch my breath, I said, "Something else happened."
"Tell me about it inside. I could use a cup of hot tea after all the excitement we've had, but first, I want to check on the Mother Cluckers. They won't settle down for the night if I don't sing them a lullaby." She disappeared around the corner of the house.
I breathed a sigh of relief that this would buy me a few more minutes and burst through the front door to find Jones on the couch. Basil sat on one side of my ex and Loki sprawled on the other.
"How did you get here?" I asked him. "You were stuck in that shack."
"Those two men got a call and offered me a ride home. Booboo said to relay his apologies about you getting hurt, and he hopes that you're okay. Did you know they were undercover agents the entire time?" Jones held up my phone. "Also, you left this behind. Is Aunt Corliss with you?"
"She is, and thanks." I took it from him and stuck it in my back pocket. Before the night got any weirder, I offered, "Well, I guess your work here is done."
"Zip, can we stay in touch?"
"We're in touch right now," I countered.
"No. I mean, really stay in touch. Like, be friends."
"Couples who break up can't really stay friends. The phrase is a polite way to try and ease the sting a little."
"But we're not other couples."
> "Jones, come on. Magic is part of my life, and you don't believe in it."
He stroked Loki between the ears. "Let's say that after today, I'm willing to be less skeptical. So, can we? Stay in touch, that is?"
Before I could answer, Aunt Corliss bellowed from the doorway, "Jackson Thomas Jones, is that your dog on my furniture?"
"No, ma'am. This is Zip's dog on your furniture."
Before Aunt Corliss could react, Loki squealed, "That's why they call it furniture, right? It's because I put my fur all over it. Rub my belly again, Jones! You're so good at that!" The dog rolled onto his bag and squirmed impatiently. "Belly rubs are even better than ear scritches!"
My aunt looked from me, to Jones, to the dog, then back to me. "Tziporah, did that dog talk?"
"Oh, look who lost the quiet game. Again." Basil snarked. He gazed up at Aunt Corliss and replied, "Yes, the mongrel talks. Do you know what would be truly amazing? Getting him to stop."
"Speak for yourself, Basil," Loki pouted.
"You two behave or you'll have to sleep in the garage," I warned. When Basil opened his mouth to respond, I added, "Together, in the same crate."
The cat gave a little hiss and left the couch to wind himself between my aunt's legs.
Aunt Corliss stared at me. "Your pets talk. How did this happen?"
"You might want to sit down. It's kind of a long story," I explained. "Jones has heard part of it."
"I'm eager to hear the rest of it." He motioned toward the empty spot on the other side of the dog and I took it, grateful to be home.
My aunt scooped up Basil and made her way across the room to her rocking chair. The moment she sat down, the cat curled up in her lap and threw a smug grin at Loki.
"So, on the way to Harmony Ridge, the truck had a flat tire," I began. Aunt Corliss and Jones held their questions to the end, a fact for which I was super grateful. By the time I finished, I was as breathless as if I had run a half-marathon.
"Where is the coffee now, Zip?" Aunt Corliss asked.
"When I got home, your workroom door was unlocked. I left the coffee there. Was that okay?"
"That was perfectly fine, hon. I forgot to lock it in my rush to leave when the agents arrived earlier than I expected."
"So that's why that black SUV was creeping up the mountain this morning."
"Yes. I hoped you hadn't seen it on your way out. The research on the coffee will have to wait. I want to fix you two a nice supper."
"That's okay, Aunt Corliss," Jones said. She wasn't his aunt, but everyone on Mulberry Mountain called her that whether they were related by blood or by love. "I really should get home."
"As if I'd let you go home on an empty stomach. Help Zip mind the animals while I pull something together." She stood and left the room before he could make further protests.
"I can leave if you don't want me here."
"Don't be silly, Jones. I called and invited you over. Besides, Aunt Corliss will make enough food for a small army."
"Will we get food, too?" Loki asked. The dog's tummy rumbled and we all laughed.
I patted him on the head. "Yes. You'll definitely get some food."
"More puppy pizza treats?"
Basil snorted. "Who needs those when bacon is on the stove."
About that time, I heard the tell-tale sizzle of meat frying in a cast iron skillet. The heady aroma of my favorite breakfast meat soon followed.
"What's bacon?" Loki asked.
The sound of an old-fashioned dinner bell rang through the house.
I stood and beckoned to the dog. "Come on. You're about to find out."
Chapter Thirteen
By the time we finished eating and talking, it was well past midnight. Aunt Corliss suggested I walk Jones to the door, and I was too full of chamomile waffles, bacon, and matcha green tea to refuse the request.
"We had quite a night," he said as we lingered in the entryway, his voice soft.
It felt way too much like those nights when he'd come over for dinner and I'd help him with his botany homework. Years of living with Aunt Corliss gave me an edge when it came to plant knowledge. "Yeah."
After a minute of silence, which felt like an hour, he asked, "What's on your mind, Zip? You're not usually this quiet."
"Twenty-four hours earlier and your presence would have bugged me to no end."
"And now? Did my absence make your heart grow fonder?" he asked, the Elvis-like twang returning to his voice.
Holy horse chestnuts, no! my brain wanted to scream. At the same time, I found myself saying, "I missed you, but not the drama or your refusal to believe in magic."
"Like I said before dinner, tonight opened my eyes. I'm not saying I'm a full believer, but I'm willing to be more open-minded."
"So, you weren't willing to take my word for anything I told you before. A couple of talking pets come onto the scene, though, and now you're open-minded."
"I'm still not wholly convinced it's not some kind of hallucination."
I put my hands on my hips and straightened my shoulders. "There it is."
"There what is?" Jones ran a hand through his hair.
Ugh. I wish he'd stop doing that. I opened the door. "Even when proof smacks you in the face, you still refuse to believe it. Goodnight, Jones. Thanks for your help. I'll call you if I need anything else."
"Oh, come on, Zip! Would you rather I lie to you about it?" Jones asked. His voice took on a hard edge.
"No. I appreciate your honesty, but this has to be a discussion for another time. It's late, and we're both exhausted."
"Can I at least give you a hug?" He opened his arms.
Nope. Not gonna happen. Step away from the handsome man! my brain barked orders that I ignored. Friends could hug. Hugs were nice.
A few minutes later, I watched through the open doorway until Jones got into his car and drove away before I shut and locked the front door for the night.
"Can I give you a hug?" Basil mimicked from a shadowy corner.
Before he could react, I scooped the cat up and held him to my chest. "Yes, we can hug. Come here, hunny-bunny-snookims-smooshy-face." I made smooching noises as I forced him to cuddle with me.
The cat pushed a paw against my chin and it slid up my cheek. "Stop it! What do you think you're doing? Put me down!" I released my grip and Basil jumped to the floor where he at once began grooming his fur. Between licks, he muttered, "I didn't actually want a hug."
"I know. That was for spying on me and eavesdropping on my conversations." I headed down the hall to the kitchen. When Aunt Corliss wasn't there, I went to look for her in her workshop.
"At least now we can discuss your feelings for him," Basil said along the way.
Because that's what I need, a cat to analyze my relationships, I thought, grateful that Basil couldn't read minds. Out loud, I said, "Yeah. That'll be great."
"Heading to bed?" Aunt Corliss asked when I pushed the door to the workshop open.
A yawn escaped me. "Is my exhaustion that obvious?"
"Something like that." She winked. Curled up in one corner of the room on his dog bed, Loki gave a soft woof in his sleep. "Aw, he's chasing rabbits."
"Or Basil," I suggested.
"I heard that, and it's not funny," came the cat's reply from the stairs.
When Aunt Corliss and I finished giggling, I asked, "Is he okay in here with you?"
"Loki? Oh, heavens yes. He's a dear. Earlier, when he and Basil were at each other's throats, I asked him if he would be the official workroom guard dog."
"That's awesome. Thank you." Another yawn prevented me from saying anything else beyond my words of gratitude, but I hoped the dog wouldn't ever have to serve in that capacity.
"You go on to bed, and keep your phone fully charged on your bedside table."
"I will. Goodnight, Aunt Corliss. Love you."
"Love you, too."
When I finally crawled into bed, Basil jumped onto my chest and batted my cheek with his one front paw.
"I'm still your number one pet, right?"
"Duh." I ran my hand down his back, and his loud purring filled the room.
"Okay, good." The cat curled up on my chest. "Because you never know when you might need someone to guard you, too."
Basil's sentimentality sent a strong wave of emotion through me. By the time I recovered, he was fast asleep, and I wasn't far behind him.
All too soon, however, Basil resumed his early-morning attempt to rouse me from bed.
I spat the paw from my mouth and forced my body into a sitting position. "Fine. You win. Again."
The sound of Basil's gleeful purring filled the room, and he butted the top of his head against my chin before leaping off the bed and waiting near the door. At the fringes of my mind was a dream of Basil and I holding actual conversations.
And then he spoke, reminding me that it wasn't a dream at all. "Get up, sleepy bones. Aunt Corliss is making breakfast. She gave me something called cream and, oh my, it is delicious! Why did you deny me that for all of these years?"
"I think I liked it better when you couldn't talk and hated mornings as much as I do." I fell back onto the bed and pulled the blankets over my face.
"No! Come on! Do not make me jump back onto that bed," the cat warned.
Jumping onto the mattress would mean jumping on me, and because I didn't want Basil to jump on me, I forced myself to get out of bed. With my hands on my hips, I asked, "Happy, now?"
"Yes! Let's go!"
I pushed my feet into my slippers and followed the cat down the stairs.
Chapter Fourteen
We reached the kitchen in time to find Aunt Corliss putting a plate of scones on the table.
"Good morning! How did you sleep?"
I took a seat and swallowed a sip of coffee before replying, "Great thanks to your magic chamomile waffles. This coffee is delicious. Those scones look amazing."
