Graves and Golf Carts

by Annabel Chase

  I suddenly felt uncomfortable. “Why don’t you let me help you with a spell? Maybe I can see where you’re going wrong.”

  “You’re not a witch,” Mitzi said.

  “Neither are you, apparently.”

  Mitzi stood and crossed the room to the table where her supplies were on full display. A spell book was open and I noticed that wax dripping from the nearby candle had stained the page. At least she didn’t dog-ear it.

  I scanned the entries on the page and realized that they weren’t written in English. “What language is this?”

  “It’s Etruscan,” Jules said.

  “Etruscan? Like shellfish?”

  “That’s a crustacean,” Mitzi said. “Etruscan has nothing to do with lobsters.”

  “Is that a real language?”

  “Not anymore,” Mitzi said.

  I stared at the indecipherable words on the page. “And you can read this?”

  Mitzi folded her arms and gave me a smug look. “Not so useless now, am I?”

  “I never said you were useless.” I tapped the page. “Translate and I’ll assist you.”

  “And I’ll watch,” Jules said. “I could use a good laugh today.”

  “Forgot to look in the mirror, did you?”

  Jules raked a black and purple fingernail along my cheek. “Just because I like you doesn’t mean I have a problem spilling your guts all over the floor.”

  I pushed her hand away. “Save it for your customers. I got your number, honey, and it’s 1-800-SOFTY.” I snapped my fingers at Mitzi. “Come on. Let’s go. I have lunch plans.”

  Mitzi drew a steadying breath and read the first part of the spell. “I need crushed lizard tail and pomegranate seeds.”

  “What? No eye of newt? What kind of spell is this?” I feigned indignation.

  Mitzi pressed her lips together. “If you’re not going to take this seriously, then maybe you should leave and let the professionals work.”

  I held up my hands. “I’m sorry. Please continue.”

  She named a few other items and I sourced everything from the supplies on the table and lined them up the way I’d seen doctors line up their surgical tools on Grey’s Anatomy. “Now what?”

  Her finger trailed across each line on the page and she murmured to herself until she reached the paragraph where she stopped abruptly.

  “A little louder for the folks in the back,” Jules said, waving from her spot next to Helen-Mary’s body.

  Mitzi hesitated, her index finger pressing the page. “This line. I translated it wrong.” She closed her eyes and exhaled softly. “That’s it. That’s what I messed up the last few times.”

  “It could’ve happened to anyone,” I said, feeling slightly guilty for giving her a hard time earlier. Mitzi was under no obligation to help me. She was doing this out of the kindness of her heart. I wasn’t sure what Jules’s reason was since she didn’t have a heart.

  Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Not to a proper witch. Only to an inadequate witch like me.”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself. You didn’t have the luxury of developing your magic the way other witches did.” Her human father had seen to that.

  Jules released a disgruntled groan. “Get over it. You’re worse than a vampire that missed last call at the blood bank.”

  I cut a glance at Jules. “She’s doing her best. Can you put on your humanity hat for one hot minute?”

  The vampire ran her hands down the front of her outfit. “I can’t. It clashes with my cruelty catsuit.”

  I turned my attention back to Mitzi. “Here’s the good news. Now we know how to do the spell correctly, so forget about what went wrong before and let’s do this.” I hoped we learned something useful this time, for Mitzi’s sake as well as Helen-Mary’s.

  Mitzi inhaled deeply, nodding. “I think if we hold hands around the body, it might give the spell more of a boost.”

  “Even though we’re not witches?” I asked.

  “I think she wants moral support,” Jules said. She tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and held out her hand. “Witness me putting on my humanity hat.”

  We joined hands around the body, which was a slightly awkward endeavor given that Helen-Mary was tall. We looked like we were experimenting with a social distancing version of Ring Around the Rosie.

  Mitzi relayed the spell from the book, this time with the correct interpretation. Helen-Mary’s body shimmered with a faint green light and certain spots began to light up in red.

  “She’s like an unattractive Christmas tree,” I said as we released hands.

  “Are the red spots things that don’t belong?” Jules asked.

  Mitzi squinted at the body. “I think so.”

  There weren’t too many of them. I grabbed a magnifying glass and bent over the one closest to her chest. “This looks like a petal fragment.”

  “You don’t need a magnifying glass to see that,” Jules said.

  “I know, but it makes me look like Sherlock Holmes.”

  Mitzi retrieved tweezers and removed the evidence from the witch’s body. She placed it in a transparent bag and sealed it before holding it up to the light. “It’s a light purple color. Too difficult to tell the type of flower from such a small piece.”

  “That could’ve blown onto her clothes on the golf course for all we know,” Jules said. “She’d been outside for hours.”

  “Or it could be from the pond she fell in,” Mitzi said.

  “I don’t remember seeing any flowers in that area,” I said. I’d have to go back and check.

  “What’s that red spot by her knee?” Mitzi asked.

  I leaned over with the magnifying glass. “Looks like a squished bug.” I recoiled. “That’s probably from the pond.”

  “I’m surprised the water didn’t wash it off,” Mitzi said.

  I touched the polyester-type material of Helen-Mary’s dress. “Not with this fabric. I don’t know how she could golf in this outfit without sweating to death.” It was the kind of non-breathable material that socks would cling to in the dryer. I had vivid flashbacks of wearing an itchy maroon polyester uniform for one of my first jobs in a fast food restaurant.

  Jules pointed to Helen-Mary’s hip. “What about that one?”

  I plucked what appeared to be a gray hair from the material. “This could be anyone’s.” I paused. “Well, not mine.” Blond hair was a saving grace when it came to gray hair. “It’s probably Agatha’s since they were playing together.”

  Jules looked at Mitzi. “Can you do a spell that tells us for sure?”

  Mitzi bit her lip. “Maybe.”

  I felt a burst of excitement. “Hang on. I anticipated this.” I dug my fingers into my pocket and extracted Agatha’s strand of hair. “I have what we need.”

  “I hope that’s not the result of a fight,” Mitzi said.

  Jules smiled. “And I hope it is.”

  “I’ll handle the flower petal. You can compare the hairs and see if they match, unless you’d rather someone else do it,” I said.

  Mitzi seemed affronted. “No need for backup. I can do it.” She held open a second transparent bag and I dropped the hair inside. “I want you to be able to trust me. I’m part of the team, right?” Her wary smile pierced my heart.

  “Couldn’t do it without you, boo.” I gave her arm a mock punch.

  “You could do it without me. I’m only here for the entertainment value,” Jules said.

  My stomach rumbled, which I knew wasn’t an actual sign of hunger given that I was dead. Still, this girl needed to eat before she got seriously hangry. “Ugh. I need to get moving. I owe Barney a BLT.” And me.

  “A Big Loud Trombone?” Mitzi asked.

  “A Bitchy Little Tabby?” Jules added.

  Mitzi glowered at her. “Hey, tabby cats are wonderful.”

  I shook my head. “It’s a sandwich, ladies, and if you’ve never had one, I highly suggest you remedy that. I promise it will rock your world.”<
br />
  “If you’re relying on a sandwich to rock your world, then maybe you should’ve taken up Angus on his offer,” Jules said.

  “Sorry, ladies. Even sausage can’t compete with bacon.”

  “Mitzi, make a note of that,” Jules said. “I want to have a record of this moment the next time she mentions her hormones.”

  I pushed my finger into the vampire’s chest. “That’s menopausal hormones to you, bloodsucker, and don’t you forget it.”

  Chapter Six

  After a late lunch, which involved blowing Barney’s mind with the magic of a BLT, I spent the remainder of the afternoon in front of the mirror, trying to decide which outfit to wear for my date with Aidan. I scrutinized my reflection, unsure of the purple wrap-style dress.

  Mischief perched on the corner of the bed and hissed.

  “That’s a no from you, huh?” I checked out my backside before relenting. “Fine. You’re right. I look like a clump of grapes.”

  I changed into another dress—this one had spaghetti straps and a colorful geometric print. Mischief seemed unconvinced by this one too. I was inclined to agree. I looked ready to hang on a museum wall, and not even a good museum, but the kind that always has a Groupon offer to entice patrons because no one wants to visit.

  “Last one,” I said. I swapped the geometric dress for a hot pink one with thick straps that were sturdy enough to support the girls. I admired the way that fabric accentuated my curves without emphasizing the unattractive bumps.

  “Meow,” Mischief said.

  “I concur.” Feeling upbeat, I strutted into the bathroom to fix my hair and put on makeup. Thanks to my outdoor tanning session, I didn’t need too much foundation. I went easy on the eyeliner—eye makeup had a tendency to make me look like a drunk clown that wandered away from the circus.

  The doorbell rang promptly at seven and I couldn’t decide whether I was impressed or annoyed that he was punctual. Five fashionably late minutes would’ve been appreciated for a final fluff of my hair.

  Mischief followed me to the door and I turned around to give her a firm warning. “He’s hot and he seems to be into me, so leave the love bites to me tonight. Got it?”

  The cat swished her tail back and forth in acknowledgement.

  I opened the door with a ready smile. I wasn’t as nervous as I expected to be given that this was my first real date in Divine Place. I figured I should at least have butterflies, but my stomach felt devoid of any fluttering critters, which was probably for the best.

  “Wow.” Aidan stood on the doorstep clutching a bouquet of yellow roses. Would this be a bad time to mention that I hated yellow roses? “You look fantastic.” He leaned down to kiss me on the cheek.

  “Thanks for picking me up.” I took the bouquet and hurried to the kitchen to find a vase. I settled on a pilsner glass and filled it with water before shoving the stems inside.

  Aidan sauntered into the kitchen. “What kind of knight in shining armor would I be if I didn’t offer my steed?”

  “And, by steed, I assume you mean your golf cart.”

  He grinned. “You’ll see.”

  Mischief observed the merman from the counter in stony silence. I felt the weight of her judgment in that moment and knew she’d already formed an opinion. It was probably the yellow roses—she knew I disliked them.

  I grabbed my purse and trailed after Aidan to the golf cart that was parked behind mine in the driveway. An image of a chariot drawn by four seahorses was painted on the side of the cart.

  “Nice,” I said, climbing into the passenger seat.

  “It’s drawn by eight seahorses,” he said. “I had it painted on both sides.” He seemed pleased by this stroke of genius. Admittedly, it was better than my glitter rainbow.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “I made reservations somewhere special.” He backed out of the driveway and we trundled down the street at the rapid pace of ten miles an hour. It was difficult to look sexy at that speed, but Aidan managed it.

  “Zone 1 or 2?” I asked.

  He cast me a sidelong glance, his eyes twinkling. “I thought Zone 2 would be a nice change for you. I thought we’d drive around the perimeter and take the scenic route.”

  “Sounds good.” I loved looking at The Great Divide from any angle. “I guess being near water is important to you when you’re not in it.”

  “For sure,” he said. “I can’t stay on land for too long without a dip or my skin gets funky.”

  I cringed. “Describe funky.”

  He laughed. “Nothing too horrible. It’s more of a nuisance, really, especially when I start flaking.”

  I pictured a body covered in dandruff. No thanks. “I’ll be sure to have you home before the clock strikes midnight, Cinderfella.”

  We arrived in Zone 2 and he pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant called Seashells. The outside was adorned with thick ropes and large seashells painted in soothing pastel colors. White fairy lights added a touch of ambience.

  “You’re taking me for seafood?” I asked, as we vacated the cart. “Isn’t that a form of cannibalism?”

  Aidan laughed. “I’m not part shrimp.”

  My gaze instinctively shifted lower. “I sure hope not.”

  His eyes danced with amusement. “You won’t be disappointed. I promise.”

  “Are we still talking about the shrimp?”

  “Ever hear of jumbo shrimp?” He placed a hand on the small of my back, a move that I secretly loved, and guided me into the restaurant.

  “I mean, it’s promising, but a kielbasa really gets the job done.” I cleared my throat. “I’m talking about food satisfaction, of course.”

  “Of course.” Aidan greeted the hostess with a charming smile. “How’s it going? I’m Aidan. I reserved a waterfront table for myself and my gorgeous companion this evening.”

  “Yes, of course,” the pixie said. “Follow me.” Her small wings fluttered rapidly as she started toward the back of the building.

  The outdoor seating area was a wooden deck with an unobstructed view of The Great Divide. In the distance, I spotted Charon’s Crossing as the ferry made its way across the lake toward Zone 1. The perfect gentleman, Aidan pulled out my chair before taking his seat across from me. I liked that his laidback vibe didn’t extend to manners. A server swooped in and immediately uncorked a bottle of wine.

  “This place is great,” I said. “I love a good view.”

  “Same.” He grinned. “And now I have two. Lucky me.”

  “Man, you must get so much tail around here with that kind of charm.”

  “I happen to be a leg guy,” he said. “Kind of ironic, I realize.”

  I opened the menu and scanned the options. “Have you ever been unable to transform your fin into legs and ended up hopping around like someone in a potato sack race?”

  Aidan took a sip of wine. “Um, no. I can’t say I’ve had that experience.”

  “What are your nightmares like? Instead of being naked, do you dream about being stuck on land with a fin?”

  He leaned forward. “None of my nightmares involve nudity.”

  “Same. I love that we have so much in common.” I clinked my glass against his. “Tell me about your life before you ended up here.”

  “I was Pacific Ocean based. I had a place on the Gold Coast of Australia.”

  “Awesome. I always wanted to visit Australia before I died.” I laughed. “Too late!”

  “You can visit me Down Under anytime,” he said suggestively.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Damn. Aidan was hot enough to scorch the shrimp on the barbie with a single, sizzling look.

  “See anything you want to taste?” he asked.

  I gave him a long look. “Are my options limited to the menu?”

  “We should at least try to get through the meal,” he said, grinning broadly. “But I like where this is headed.”

  So did I. Mama needed some nookie. It had been way too long, althoug
h I was mildly curious how it worked in the afterlife. Would everything be the same? This was purgatory. Did that mean I was bound to end up unsatisfied? Because that was pretty much my experience when I was alive too.

  “Are you ready to order or do you need more time?” the server asked.

  “I’d say we’re ready.” Aidan looked at me. “Beautiful women first.”

  “I’ll have the scallops and as much bread and butter as you can fit on a plate. Don’t be shy. Build a butter tower if you have to.” I closed the menu and handed it to her.

  “Nice. A healthy appetite tells me everything I need to know.” He glanced at the menu before closing it. “I’ll have the house salad.”

  I waited expectantly for the rest of his order.

  “Oh,” he added. “And make sure the dressing is on the side. I like to dip my lettuce.”

  I gaped at him in disbelief. “That’s all you’re getting?”

  He seemed unconcerned as he handed his menu to the server. “What? You don’t think a sculpted body like this one comes without a price, do you?”

  “I thought it’s because you swim a lot.”

  “And I burn more calories than I consume.” His tongue ran over his upper lip in a slow and seductive fashion. “I can show you how I do that later.”

  My cheeks burned with longing. A guy like this could show me anything he wanted. I’d even tolerate salad as a main meal.

  “Maybe you could show me some tips to burn more calories when I swim. I love the water.”

  He blew a raspberry. “Why would I ruin perfection? You don’t want to be one of those ripped bodies.” He grimaced. “I’m not attracted to that.”

  I fell back against my chair, gobsmacked. “You’re telling me that you’re not attracted to someone built like Jules?”

  “The vampire who owns Bloodlust?” he asked. “Gods, no. All those sharp edges.” He shuddered. “I find women like that impossible to please. I prefer ones who appreciate what I have to offer.”

  I cocked my head. “What do you have to offer?”

  He showed off his muscular biceps. “A body they can enjoy but never have themselves.” He seemed to realize that he might have offended me. “Oh, don’t take it the wrong way. I love extra cushion. Pile on the pillows, I always say.”