What's a Witch to Do?: A Midnight Magic Mystery Page 9

  The bell rings as two of my witches, Hazel and Lucy, enter. Adam retreats to the back of the store to measure the walls. I get them their herbs and oil for tonight’s lesson, and we chat about the wedding. As I hand them their bag, the bell rings again and in walks a man holding a huge vase of red roses. “Mona McGregor?” the delivery man asks. Hazel’s and Lucy’s eyes pop out of their heads. I nod. “Sign here.”

  “Um, okay … ” I say, signing.

  “Oh my word, who are they from?” Hazel asks as he departs.

  “No idea.” I take out the card. Hell’s bells.

  Dear Mona, a little incentive for Wednesday. Guy.

  A smile spreads like wildfire across my face. Someone sent me flowers. A man sent me flowers. This has never happened before. Sure I’m not a big fan of roses, bluebells and violets are more my speed, but … holy shit!

  I notice Adam staring at me and immediately drop my smile. “They’re from no one. Excuse me.” I take the vase with me into the back room away from prying eyes. A lady does not speak about her beau in mixed company.

  “When did she get a boyfriend?” Lucy asks in the other room.

  “I wonder who he is,” Hazel responds. The bell rings a few seconds later as they leave. It’s just flowers. Men send flowers every day. Okay, why am I so darn uncomfortable about this? It’s like the already heavy air just gained ten pounds. Maybe it’s because this is all so new to me. I’m out of practice how to react when a man is publicly wooing me. Not that one ever has. The sad truth is that I’ve only ever been in one relationship, if it could be called that, and that was fifteen years ago. Dennis was an anthropology student at UVA, doing his dissertation on the roots of Wicca. He was here for all of two weeks and never called after he left. I found out later he had a fiancé. That was my one foray into love, or at least sex. Since then I’ve only been on a handful of dates and each time came to the conclusion that men are usually nothing but trouble, and I have enough of that in my life already. Then I saw Guy … I sigh. He really does like me. A gorgeous doctor likes me. Crap, now I have to go to that damn auction, and I have nothing to wear. See? A man’s complicating my life, and we haven’t even been on one date. He better be worth it.

  Supply shopping/lunch

  My employee Alice, a forty-year veteran of the store, arrives an hour later so I can take my lunch break. A quiet Adam and I take this opportunity to run to the hardware store down the street for supplies. He’s barely said a non-work-related word to me since the flowers. I do like a man who doesn’t pry.

  There’s still time left after we drop off the hardware at the shop to grab some take-out at the diner. It’s bustling so we’re lucky to snag two seats at the counter to place and wait for our orders. Our luck doesn’t end there. Cheyenne runs to and fro behind the counter with plates, her emotionless eyes sliding over me as she passes. “That’s Cheyenne,” I tell Adam.

  She passes again but this time her gaze locks on Adam. She stops in front of us, licking her red lips and smiling seductively. “Well, hello,” she purrs.

  “Hello,” Adam says with a matching smile. I have the strongest urge to smack his arm.

  “Are you the mysterious cousin everyone’s been buzzing about?” she asks.

  “I have a feeling I am.”

  I clear my throat. “Sorry, Cheyenne, we’re in a hurry.”

  She doesn’t take her eyes off Adam. “What can I get you two?”

  “I’ll have the Cobb salad to go, dressing on the side,” I say. If I eat healthy starting now maybe I can lose ten pounds by Wednesday. Yeah, right.

  “Can I have two hamburgers, both rare, and fries on the side?” Adam asks.

  “A man with a hearty appetite. I like that.” With a coy grin, she leaves to place our order.

  “Can you please not fraternize with the enemy?” I ask in a low voice.

  Cheyenne glances over her shoulder at Adam, who smiles. “If she likes me, I might be able to get her to open up.”

  “In more ways than one,” I mutter.

  “Mona!” Clay calls behind me. Adam and I turn to find him approaching. He’s sporting the green-and-black bowtie I gave him for Christmas. He kisses my cheek. “Hi. I was just having lunch with Griff. Who is—”

  “A.J. You know, our cousin A.J. From Boston?”

  It takes Clay a second, but he gets it. “Right! Our second cousin who’s staying with you. Right. Nice to meet you. Cousin.”

  The men shake hands. “You too.”

  “Clay is my oldest friend, and he works at the paper. He’s helping on that project I told you about.”

  “I actually have made some progress on that front,” Clay says, glancing at Cheyenne, whose eyes keep finding Adam. Hussy. “Let me just say bye to Griff, and we can go back to your shop,” he says before returning to his editor.

  Adam moves to get up. “Be right back.” He walks toward the bath-

  rooms.

  The second he’s out of sight, Cheyenne hustles over to me, brimming with excitement. “Please tell me he’s not my cousin too.”

  “Nope.” Sadly.

  “And he’s staying at your house? Will he be there tonight?”

  “Yep, but I think he has a girlfriend in Boston.”

  “So? I have a boyfriend.”

  Already guilty of infidelity, can cold-blooded murder be far behind? “Doesn’t he live in Richmond? I thought I heard you were spending a lot of time there.”

  “Cheyenne!” Shane, the manager of the diner, shouts through the partition. “Come on! Hustle!”

  “Fuck. See you tonight,” she says as she walks away.

  Crap. I’ll try interrogating her tonight if I can pry her tentacles off Adam.

  Clay plops down in the vacant seat next to me a second later. “What did she say?”

  “That girl is pure evil. No question.”

  Adam returns a minute later and our food arrives a minute after that. Can’t beat that service. Cheyenne winks at Adam as she hands him the bag. He winks back. I suppress an eye roll. “Friendly town,” Adam says as we walk out.

  The shop is quiet with only one customer browsing books, so I leave Alice out there and shut the back room curtain. Adam immediately digs into his first burger, red juice dripping down his chin. I hand him a napkin. With their superfast metabolism, werewolves need lots of protein and carbs. I’ve seen one devour an entire turkey and still have room for pie.

  Clay grimaces as Adam licks the blood off his fingers. “So you’re a werewolf, huh?”

  Adam narrows his eyes at me. “He knows about preters?”

  “My entire life has revolved around witchcraft and the co-op since I was born; he figured it out after a couple of years. Everyone in town kinda knows the deal.”

  “I won’t tell about you though,” Clay say indignantly. “Hell, who’d believe me?”

  “What did you find out, Clay?” I ask.

  “I called my friend at the Richmond Standard. She covers the social scene there. I gave her the names, and she cross-referenced them. It seems that Erica and that vampire Thomas Wellington and Alejandro Agguire regularly attend parties together. They have for years.”

  “So she knows them. Not surprising.”

  “Well, according to Samantha, the rumors have swirled for years that Thomas and Erica were sleeping together. It’s just rumors though.”

  “Wouldn’t shock me,” I say, “but if she’s sleeping with Thomas, why not conspire with him, not Alejandro?”

  “Maybe she was sleeping with both of them,” Adam suggests.

  “I’ll call him tonight and try to find out what that shithead bastard found out before he offed Alejandro,” I say. “What else?”

  “Nothing on Shirley or Collins. I did find an archived article about Cheyenne from three years ago. She was arrested for drunk driving.”

  Bad girl, but I already knew this. “Keep focusing on Erica. See if you can dig up any more on her relationship with the vampires.”

  “Roger, roger. I bette
r get back to work. That article on the library renovation isn’t going to write itself.” He kisses my cheek. “I’ll call when I have news.” He spins around to walk out but stops halfway when he spots the roses. “Oh my God. Did that doctor send you those?”

  I glance at Adam, who picks at his fries, and say, “Um … yep.”

  “Wow. That’s great. Are you going on Wednesday?”

  “There’s kind of a lot going on, Clay.”

  “There’s always time for love, Mona. I mean, you’ve had your sights set on him for three months, and he obviously likes you enough to spend a hundred bucks on flowers.”

  “Goodbye, Clay,” I say in sing-song with a tiny wave.

  “Fine. Nice to meet you, Adam.” Adam nods and Clay walks out, leaving me mortified. I stab some lettuce and stuff it into my mouth. I’m not used to having a private life, but I certainly know I don’t want it discussed.

  “So you met this doctor three months ago?” Adam asks.

  My eyes narrow. “Yeah. Why?”

  “Because if I’m going to keep you safe, I need to know the people in your life, boyfriends included.”

  “He is not my boyfriend, and he has nothing to do with the woman trying to kill me. He’s a doctor. From D.C. He doesn’t know a thing about witches or vampires.”

  “How can you know?” Adam asks. “I don’t like the timing. Has he seemed interested in you this whole time or is this a recent occurrence?”

  I open my mouth to protest, but the words don’t come out. It is kind of odd that after three months he chooses now to start courting me. The few interactions we’ve had prior to Saturday were friendly but certainly not flirty. Well, there was that look he gave me after Sophie’s bee sting episode. I was sitting on her hospital bed with Cora in my lap playing war with a crumply deck of cards, and he was at the door, looking most impressed. He even winked at me. Maybe that’s when the seed was planted. That’s gotta be it. It has to be. Right? Because if it’s not … no. Not going there. Of course a great, handsome, smart man like Guy Sutcliffe could like me. Good things like this happen, they do, and now they’re happening to me.

  I scoff. “So the only way a man can be interested in me is if he’s evil? Is that what you’re implying?”

  “Of course not. I—”

  I pick up my salad and stand. “Guy is not trying to kill me, he’s trying to sleep with me, thank you very much. That doesn’t make him crazy or evil, it makes him the smartest man in town, present company included. Because I am a caring, vibrant, passionate, strong woman who would happen to make the best damn partner in the state, and Guy just happens to be intelligent enough to recognize that.”

  I start walking toward the door, but Adam grabs my arm. “Mona, I—”

  I jerk my arm away and look him square in the eyes, indignant rage emerging from my every pore. “My entire life has been about others since I was a kid. Their wants, their needs. I am a good friend, a good sister, a good aunt, and a good spiritual leader.” I bite my lower lip. “I kept my family together through sickness and death. I am raising children that are not my own by myself. I help women reach their full potential. And I’m happy to do it, I really am. I’m good at it. Damn good. It’s what I was put on this earth to do. But what about me? It’s never been about me. I don’t get what I want, hell I barely get what I need, and right now, I need this. I need to believe that something good can happen to me. Because if it can’t … then why the hell am I fighting so hard to stay alive?” I shake my head. We’re both breathing heavier than normal. “I am entitled to some damn happiness. I’ve earned it, threefold. And now it’s come to call. Don’t you dare tarnish it.”

  I avert my eyes and stalk out. Adam doesn’t follow.

  Alice stares at me through her glasses, looking very concerned. I plop my salad down on the counter and lean against its solid bulk, once again trying to fight back tears. Alice rubs my back. “Having a bad day?”

  “Having a bad life.”

  Founders’ Day Committee Meeting

  Things pick up in the afternoon with most of my class swinging by for ingredients. As I’m ringing them up, each and every one of their eyes dart to Adam, who scrapes paint off my window like a maniac. Step one of the renovation: re-paint the name of the store. It hasn’t had so much as a touchup in twenty years, so the words have chipped off. I decided on midnight blue with yellow to represent moonlight. If it turns out half as good as the sketch Adam made, I’ll be happy.

  Right now, though, I’m alternating between mortified and angry, mostly at myself. I can’t even look at him, working away over there. For me. I spend as much time as possible in the back with the online orders, and when he comes back for a tool, we don’t even acknowledge each other’s presence. This is especially hard when Alice goes on break, and we’re both stuck in the front. I try to read a book as he stencils.

  I should apologize, I know I should apologize. He was just pointing out the obvious, but I can’t. If I do, I’m admitting to myself that he might be right, and I’ll lose all hope. And right now I need some fucking hope in my life. The potential that life won’t always be like this. When I think about the years ahead of me, I feel desolate. I work my ass off to scrape by, deal with everyone’s crises, and raise the girls until Ivy inevitably returns to snatch them away from me. I’ll just keep getting older, watching my body decay, having everyone go off to live their own lives. I’ll end up like Auntie Sara, alone and angry, living vicariously through others whether they like it or not. Looked down on and pitied. Hell, maybe I should just off myself and save my unknown enemy the trouble.

  Alice returns before my thoughts grow even darker. “Adam, time to go,” I say.

  “Fine.” He collects his tools as I go into the back to get my purse, coat, and sanity. He walks in just as I zip up my case. “Where’s your meeting?” he asks.

  “Just up the street.” I toss him my car keys. “You take the car. I’ll get a ride home.”

  “Do you want me to escort you there?”

  “No, the streets are filled with people, I’ll be fine. You better go or you’ll miss their bus.”

  He nods. I put on my coat and take a step to leave. “Mona?” he asks. I turn around. “I’m sorry if I offended you. I didn’t—”

  “I know. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have lost it like that. I’m just on edge.” I give him a quick smile. “Don’t let them have too much sugar, or you’ll really feel my wrath.”

  “I definitely don’t want that,” he says with a smile back.

  “I’ll be home about four thirty.” I wave and step out.

  No one attacks me as I walk down Courtland Street toward Goodnight City Hall, the oldest building in town. Two of the people I’m helping honor this week, Courtland Goode and John Knight, constructed it three hundred fifty years ago when they first settled here. They and their families landed with the rest of the colonists but quickly broke away from the others, migrating west until Anne Knight—daughter of John and my great-to-the-twentieth-power-grandmother—told them to stop when she sensed the ley lines.

  The town really owes itself to Courtland and Anne. The legend goes that John Knight, a witch in England, had two daughters: Anne and Mary. When one of their neighbors saw Anne literally playing with fire, the entire extended family fled before she was accused of witchcraft and hung. On the passage over Anne Knight met Courtland Goode, the handsome reverend’s son, and they fell madly in love despite the popular belief that witches were the spawn of the devil. That rumor was most likely started by an actual demon, not that it mattered. Millions of witches were killed in the most heinous ways, and to this day we’re feared and reviled. But none of this mattered to Courtland. He saw past the prejudice to the woman underneath. Courtland left behind his family—hell, everything he ever believed in—for Anne. From them came the town. And me.

  City Hall is a two-story brick building with a bronze bust of Anne out front. Originally they wanted a statue of John and Courtland, but my great-great-grandmo
ther Ramona led a protest down the street to have it changed to Anne. Except for sleeping with a drug-addicted crazy man, she was a woman after my own heart.

  The six other committee members stand or sit around a table in the conference room. We’ve been working for months to pull this festival together. Like most things in this town, the government is run by the women. Magdalena Rogers, our mayor of ten years, is at the head of the committee with Eileen Merriman and Yvonne Cliff, both retired schoolteachers, doing the brunt of the work. My old classmate Jocelyn and I basically assist them when needed. Erica, who now sits at the table, manicured fingers tapping away on her iPhone, left the planning and execution to us. She just connected us with the concession company and donated ten grand for cleanup.

  I smile at Jocelyn as I enter but make a beeline for my glamorous cousin. Like Shirley, she’s descended from Ramona’s sister Gillian, so we’re distant cousins. It shows. Ms. Erica Fitch is tall and thin with flaming red hair and brown eyes. It’s easy to see why she attracts the attention of powerful men, including vampires. There isn’t an inch of her that isn’t coiffed, tight, or manmade to look beautiful. As I sit, her eyes acknowledge me, but nothing more. “Afternoon,” I say.

  “Afternoon,” Erica says coolly as she puts away her phone.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’ll be glad when this festival’s over.”

  “Me too. Of course then I have this massive silent auction I’m helping out with at the end of the month. I know I’m spreading myself too thin, but I’m such a giver, you know? How can you not help those who can’t help themselves?”

  Oh gag me. “Are you coming to the coven meeting Saturday? Or the wedding?”

  “The wedding, yes. I’ve been friends with the Walkers for ages. I hope you won’t be offended if I sit on their side at the wedding.”

  Where all the posh people will sit instead of us country bumpkins. “Of course not, but I’m barely even thinking of the wedding. I have serious co-op problems.”

  “Oh? Did those evil doggies give you fleas?”