What's a Witch to Do?: A Midnight Magic Mystery Read online

  When it does open, I jump out and rush my butt down the street. Instead of using the front door, I go around the back to the sliding glass door. Adam was supposed to unlock it, and as always he is a man of his word. Now I’ll only be arrested for entering. The house is dark, so I pull out my tiny flashlight from my waistband. Even with the flashlight I hit my leg on the end table, beer cans clattering and falling to the ground. Okay, I really suck at this. I take off the amulet, and my body appears. Should make things easier. Let’s get this over with. Bedroom first.

  I walk down the hall past pictures on the wall. Cheyenne in a bikini at the beach. The unhappy twins about age ten flanking their equally dour parents. Maxine working in the garden. One I took of the twins and Debbie drawing with chalk. If I remember correctly, that day ended with Cheyenne shoving Debbie for using her Barbie comb. Okay, stay off Memory Lane. It just dead ends with the sheriff arresting me for trespassing.

  The bedroom is cleaner than I imagined, with the bed made. Not that I want to touch it, mainly because of the mirror above it. Tacky. I check the dresser first. Nothing but a thousand thongs and enough polyester clothes to outfit the cast of Saturday Night Fever. No false bottoms either. Nothing under the bed or mattress. The nightstand gives me pause. Not only do I find pot but also a pink vibrator, furry handcuffs, condoms, and some beads that I assume I don’t want to touch. Grimacing, I shut the drawer. The closet holds no surprises, just clothes and shoes. I press on all the walls for a secret space but come up empty. Guess she wants to keep her sex and murdering lives separate.

  Across the hall is a bedroom converted into an office of sorts. Really there’s just a stereo on the end table and a desk filled with ritual items. Jars of herbs, a small cauldron, an athame, and a tiny bookcase filled with books. A few are on black magic, but I don’t find the handwritten notebook Meg and Belle told me about. Everything here is within regulations. Some herbs could be combined for black magic spells, but there’s no sulfur. She probably used it all last night. Okay, so I have no idea what I expected to find. A bound copy of “How I Intend to Kill Mona” maybe. Hell, I’d settle for matches from Alejandro’s club. Photos—

  The sound of the deadbolt unlocking down the hall makes my stomach drop to my toes. Of course. I’m going to jail. I click off the flashlight and stand still, afraid even to blink in case she can hear it.

  “ … so sorry,” Cheyenne says as she steps into the other room.

  “Not a problem,” Adam says. “I’m just going to use the bathroom before we go again.”

  I hear his heavy footsteps moving toward me, then the shutting of a door. A second later he appears in the doorway, finding me clutching the flashlight to my chest and tense like a virgin on her wedding night. “What happened?” I mouth.

  He steps in and whispers, “She forgot her wallet.” On accident, I’m sure. “We’re leaving again. Just stay quiet.” He rushes out again, and a few seconds later, the toilet flushes. “You find it?” he calls out as he walks down the hall again. “Cheyenne? Where—”

  He stops mid-sentence. In my heightened fear state, my hearing is phenomenal. He lets out a surprised moan and then I hear lips smacking against each other in a wet kiss. The bitch pounced. “No, wait, stop,” he says a few seconds later. “What about dinner?”

  “Fuck dinner. We’ll order pizza after,” she says huskily. I can hear jingling as she undoes his belt.

  “But—”

  “Just shut up.”

  There’s another groan, then the sound of bodies falling on the couch. Oh hell’s bells. There is no way I am going to stand here and listen to them have sex in the next room. I’d rather get arrested. I stick the flashlight back in my pants and re-energize the amulet before tiptoeing down the hall like a ghost. Of course if I stomped through wearing clogs, they wouldn’t notice right now. Cheyenne lays on top of Adam making out with him with abandon, as if they’d just discovered the activity. She’s even got her shirt off, revealing a leopard print bra. She rubs against him like a cat in heat, hands under his shirt, raking her nails on his chest. His eyes are open, but his hands are busy caressing her naked back. A rage like nothing I’ve ever felt pours into me like molten lead.

  Oh hell no!

  A huge gust of wind outside rattles the windows and knocks the patio table over like a Jersey housewife. Both Adam and Cheyenne jolt with surprise, and the game of tonsil hockey is called. “What was that?” Adam asks.

  “The wind I think,” Cheyenne says.

  Adam peels the whore off him and stands. “I better check it out.”

  “Why? It was just the wind.”

  As he passes me, I swear he looks right into my eyes, a little embarrassed. Good. He opens the sliding glass door and steps out. Reading his mind, I know what to do. I quickly tiptoe through the kitchenette and out the open door. The problem is that Cheyenne is a few steps behind me. I barely have time to step aside before she plows past. “Told you it was just the wind.”

  “These days you can’t be too careful,” Adam says, picking up the table. “There is a demon running around town.”

  Cheyenne rolls her eyes. “Oh, spare me from demon talk. I’m so over it.”

  “You’re not afraid? It was here a few hours ago.”

  She runs her hand down his chest. “It takes a lot to scare me.”

  “But Mona—”

  She pulls her hand away while rolling her eyes again. “Oh, please shut up about her. All day all I’ve heard is demon, Mona, demon, Mona! I am sick of that fat, sad, know-it-all. She ain’t as great or mighty as she pretends to be. She’s only Priestess because her grandmother knew she’d have nothing else in her life. She felt sad for her like we all do. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she summoned that damn demon herself just to show how powerful she thinks she is when she kills it or whatever, and give her something to do. It’s downright pathetic.”

  It takes every ounce of my willpower not to choke her. Or cry.

  “Don’t—don’t talk about her that way, okay? She’s my … cousin,” Adam says.

  “Mine too, but you don’t know her as well as I do. I’ve been around her all my life. She’s always been the same. Arrogant, prissy, thinks her shit don’t stink. Hell, I’m pretty sure she’s still a virgin. She has no passion. Cold, frigid bitch from birth. Now I, on the other hand,” she says, running her tentacle through his hair, “do not have that problem.” She kisses him again. “Let’s go back inside, and I’ll prove it.” She takes Adam’s hand and leads him inside.

  With a shudder, I let out the breath I was holding. I don’t care what that bitch thinks about me. I don’t. So why are the tears coming? No, no way. I’m not giving her that satisfaction.

  I make it back to the car with no trouble, since Cheyenne is once again busy sticking her bilious tongue down Adam’s throat. Not for long though. I pull out my cell and call his. He picks up on the sixth ring. “Time to come home,” I say.

  “Hey, Mona—” he says, but I hang up, start the car, and get the hell out of Dodge.

  The girls are still asleep when I return home, and Auntie Sara is watching Antiques Roadshow and knitting. “How’d it go?” she asks, standing up.

  “Could have been better. Thanks for watching them.”

  She takes her car keys from my hand. “Of course, dear. Will you need me tomorrow night too?”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “The auction. You’re still going, right?”

  She knows about that? Of course she does, she’s a one-woman gossip mill. “I totally forgot about it,” I say, shaking my head. “We’ll see. Let me walk you home.”

  She puts on her coat, and we walk out. “Did you find anything?” she asks.

  “No. Still at square one after three days. To be honest, I really have no idea what I’m doing. We keep making it up as we go. Miss Marple makes it look so easy. I mean, it might not even be Cheyenne.”

  “Of course it is,” Auntie Sara says as we stroll. “That girl is just like her grandmother: crazy
and mean as hell. And Maxine’s mama was the same. I don’t know what Daddy was thinking when he took up with Jackie. He usually had better taste in mistresses than that. Mind you, they were normally poor trash, but they knew to keep their traps shut and cash the damn checks. Except Jackie. She kept showing up on our porch begging and threatening. I mean he gave her money, what more did they want? Not even Granny Ramona could back them off.”

  “That must have been horrible for you.”

  “Well, having to go to school with your half-sisters and pretend you’re not related was a strain. I wanted nothing to do with them. Sally, your granny, on the other hand, went out of her way to be friendly, even to Maxine. That one blew up in her face more than once,” she says with a scoff. “The worst time was right before her wedding. Sally wanted to invite the whole town, Maxine included. Well, your granny was walking down the street with Albert and me when all of a sudden Maxine comes barreling out the general store screaming like a banshee about Sally rubbing her rich wedding in her face, calling poor Sally a million names.” Sara shakes her head. “I’ll never forget it. Your grandfather stepped right in front of us, looked Maxine square in the eye, and as cool as a cucumber said, ‘If you don’t stop talking to her like that, I swear to God above I will strike you down so you never utter another word again. Leave.’ And damned if she didn’t. I knew right then, despite what everyone in town said about Sally marrying a lowly mechanic, that they’d be together forever.”

  We reach her porch but don’t go in. “Papa really loved her, huh?”

  “Oh yes. You saw it, I know you did. True love is a beautiful thing. Your mama and daddy had it too. So did Lawrence and I. Goddess, I loved that man. He made my body sing. My greatest regret was not marrying him before he shipped off to Germany.” I vaguely remember Granny mentioning Sara’s beau, Lawrence, but nothing else. She sighs. “You’ll have a great love too. I know you will, Mona Leigh.”

  She’s the only one in town who does, apparently. “Well, whoever he is, he’s taking his sweet time getting here, huh?”

  My Acura rolling down the street draws our attention. Adam climbs out of the car and nods at us, bed hair wild as he moves. He does a quick walk of shame into the house. My lips purse in disapproval “That boy needs to brush his hair,” Auntie Sara says.

  I kiss her cheek. “Thanks again. Love you.” I hustle back to the house, turning on the barrier before going inside. The faucet’s running in the kitchen where I find Adam filling a glass with water. “So what happened?”

  He chugs the water then sighs. “She forgot her wallet. I texted you.”

  “I left my cell in the car.” Really have to stop doing that. “Why didn’t you offer to pay for dinner?”

  “I did! She said she was worried about getting carded. She insisted, what could I do? I’m sorry. Did you have a chance to find anything?”

  “In the five whole minutes I had, no. Nothing except a porno set in her bedroom,” I say with a shudder. “And I can’t believe you fell for that wallet trick. What are you, a fifteen-year-old girl? She just wanted to lure you back to her lair so she could suck your soul out.”

  “Then I’m glad you were there to rescue me,” he says with a grin.

  “And here I thought you’d be mad.”

  “Why?”

  “Seemed like you were enjoying yourself a little on that couch.”

  “Hell, no. She tasted like cigarettes and smelled like cheap perfume, and that was before she said that bullshit about you. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.” He shakes his head. “Are you okay? I mean, she was pretty fucking evil. If it wouldn’t have blown our cover, I would have slapped the words out of her mouth.”

  I grow a little warm inside and can’t stop the smile from crossing my face. “Like I care what that ho thinks about me,” I lie, but only a little. I pull out bread, cold cuts, and a knife to make the girls’ lunches. “Besides, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”

  “What? Really?”

  I shrug and spread mayo on the bread. “That I have no life, no passion. I’ll die alone and childless, blah de dah. Though, just for the record, I am not a virgin. I had a boyfriend, just to be clear. He was a lying, cheating asshole, but still.”

  “Thank you for letting me know?” Adam says in a confused tone, getting snacks for the lunches.

  “I’m just saying I’m not as pathetic as she made me sound. I’m picky, that’s all. I sure as hell don’t need a man to validate or complete me, unlike some. The man who ends up with me has to be pretty damn special.”

  He hands me the saran wrap, meeting my eyes. “I don’t doubt it for a minute.”

  Oh hell’s bells. Another damn sliver of lust moves through me again. I think I’m starting to like them. I look away and clear my throat. “So what now? Where do we go from here? Because I am fresh out of ideas.”

  “Then I guess we go to bed.”

  My gaze whips to him, eyes wide. Thank the goddess his back is to me as he locks the back door because I feel my cheeks flare up again. I look down at the counter, willing them to return to normal. Doesn’t work, especially as an image of him shirtless and sweaty on my bed surrounded by rose petals pops into my head. “Good idea. Sleep. Always helps.” I gotta get out of here before I pull a Cheyenne and pounce. I quickly wrap the sandwiches, put them in the bags, and stick them in the fridge. “Night.”

  “Goodnight.”

  I rush out, all but running up the stairs to my bedroom. Okay, what on Gaia’s green earth is the matter with me? A hug, a dance, a little eye contact and I’ve suddenly lost twenty years of my life and am a teenager again, creating some grand love story out of next to nothing. Sophomore year and Peter Lee all over again. It’s the situation, that’s all. Men and women thrown together in intense situations always go a little lo—lust crazy. I mean, I’ve always thought he was attractive, I’m not gonna lie. But his rudeness and complete lack of interest in me quashed mine. I try not to fight losing battles. Though now … no. Stop it. Any designs he may or may not have on me are purely sexual due to our close proximity and his role as protector, and I don’t do casual sex. He’s leaving Saturday. There’s no future. Damn it.

  Cheyenne’s right, I am pathetic. And disloyal. There’s Guy to think about now. Tomorrow we start officially dating, and I am no cheater. No, I’m just grateful for Adam’s help, but that does not mean I need or want to jump into bed with him. There. That’s settled. Good.

  I throw on my pajamas, brush my teeth, and hop in bed. Big day tomorrow. I have a date with my future husband. In less than twenty-four hours, we’ll be taking the first step into our future. I’ll prove them all wrong.

  Even the witch ends up with Prince Charming sometimes.

  WEDNESDAY TO DO:

  Continue with investigation

  Paint store window

  Make sure to check online orders

  Buy pantyhose/eyeliner/hairspray/condoms?

  Find something to wear!!!

  More demon research

  Try breaking into Cheyenne’s again

  Get ready for auction

  Look into getting a prescription for Valium

  so don’t have panic attack

  FOR THE FIRST TIME in almost a week, I get a full night’s sleep. I wake the next morning with two little girls and a cat nestled in bed with me feeling pretty darn good. My favorite way to start the morning. The mountain of French toast Adam cooks and we scarf down like Hoovers just makes the whole day that much brighter. I can even look at him without blushing. Definite progress. We walk the girls to the bus stop and head to the store to resume the huge task of fixing the shop. I crank up the music and start removing all the statues from the shelves. It’s gonna be hard for people to find merchandise, but I don’t have a doubt it’ll be perfect when it’s done.

  We’re busy after the shipment of herbs arrived, then later when scared witches come in for them. More than one—hell, more than five—hang around pretending to browse while not so covertly ch
ecking out the guy stretching and flexing as he drills holes in the wall. It is like a porno for women: tight jeans, sweaty brow, power tools. I should sell tickets.

  When things calm down, I check my e-mails. Four potion and five charm orders, one from George, and a couple from other co-op members asking to add items on the agenda. I open the letter from George last. The financial records of my suspects are ready. In the past three months, all but Shirley have used their credit cards in Richmond. Cheyenne and Erica had charges at Alejandro’s club, Cheyenne more than once. It is the most popular club in Richmond, so I’m not that surprised. At least Collins is off the hook.

  Before I can begin making the orders, the bell rings in the shop, and I get up. Clay maneuvers through the mess and waves at Adam, who nods before returning to his noisy drilling. I’m gonna have a headache by noon. “It’s official business,” Clay says.

  “Come on back.” I usher him in and shut the curtain. “What’s up?”

  “I need a quote from you. We’re running a story in tomorrow’s paper about why there are dozens of occult carvings and paintings around town. People are a little freaked.”

  Great, that’s all I need. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “How about the truth, and then we’ll brainstorm on the official story?” So we sit and I tell him. “I … have no idea how to spin that. A demon?”

  “Just say they’re family crests for the Goode and Knight families. We put them up in honor of Founders’ Week. You can quote me as saying anything. I’ll back you up.”

  “Mona, people should know there’s a dangerous monster running around.”

  “It doesn’t want them, it wants me. I wouldn’t have said a word, except half the damn town felt the thing. Besides, you know you can’t print the truth. It’ll destroy your credibility.”

  “What if this thing starts killing?”

  “Then other scary monsters with big guns will come, exterminate it, and arrest the person who summoned it. Speaking of, any news on that front?”