What's a Witch to Do?: A Midnight Magic Mystery (16 page)

“Mona?” Brandie asks, voice quaking. “Oh thank God.”

I touch Adam’s arm, and we stop walking. “Brandie, what is it? Are you okay?”

“I—I felt it, I mean I
feel
it. I think it’s nearby. Can you come?”

Adam and I exchange a knowing glance then take off running toward the parking lot. “Brandie, I am on my way, okay? Have you put up the sigils I gave you?”

“Um, yeah,” she says, “I—I don’t see anyone outside.”

We reach my car and leap in. “Stay away from the windows, okay? It can sense you too.”

“It can?” she asks on the verge of hysterics.

“Just start burning sage. We’ll be there in a few minutes. You’ll be fine. It doesn’t want you.”

“How—how do you know? Aaron’s been catting around with someone. She might have brought it here to kill me!”

Adam raises an eyebrow, and I shrug. The phone beeps to tell me I have another call. “I doubt it, okay? Be there in three minutes. Just stay indoors.” I switch to the other call. “Yes?”

“Mona, it’s Meg,” she whispers. “It’s here.”

“I know. I’m already on my way. Just burn sage and stay behind the sigils. It can’t get you. I’ll be there soon.” I hang up. “They live a few houses apart,” I tell Adam.

“What do you think it’s doing there?”

“Cheyenne lives down the street from them.” I drive over the railroad tracks into the south side with its tract houses almost on top of each other and separated by chain link.

“Do we have a plan?” Adam asks as I make a quick right onto Cheyenne’s street.

“You’re supposed to be the tactical expert. I—”

I feel it. That same prickling of skin sprouting gooseflesh and rock in my stomach. I slow the car down, scanning the houses and cars for people.

“Mona?” Adam asks.

“Tell me when you feel it too.”

We pass Brandie’s house with the GTO on bricks in her driveway. The twisted lines like ivy made up of incantations is painted on the door. At least she can get sigils right. There’s no movement between the houses or in the parked cars. Meg’s house, which she shares with Belle, is two down. There’s nothing out of the ordinary there either. Cheyenne’s is the last house on the right with the dying lawn. Her car isn’t in the driveway. There aren’t any sigils either.

“I think I feel it,” Adam says. “Keep driving.” I just see more of the same, a whole lot of nothing but houses in need of paint and a million cars until we reach the next intersection. “Turn here and park.”

I do as he says, stopping in the only space available, in front of Maxine Bell’s ranch house, Cheyenne’s grandmother. “Okay, it’s around here. Now what?” I ask.

“We find it and kill it,” he says before getting out of the car. “Pop the trunk.”

My Girl Scout leader would be proud to know I follow the “Be prepared” motto even after all these years. Shotgun, salt, spray paint, potions, charm bags, silver daggers, even holy water. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” Adam begins, taking out the potions and shotgun. He hands me the bag with the rest. “You’re going to drive back toward Cheyenne’s, stopping a house or two down. I’ll be shadowing you through the backyards. You get out of the car and walk to her house. If it’s outside, it’ll try to take you there.” He pulls out the pentagram amulet that matches mine. “This thing makes it so it can’t affect you psychically, right?”

“Right. It can’t get into our mind or spirit, but if it can throw a car with its mind or bend space/time, they won’t do a lick of good.”

“If it could do either of those, it would have last night when you were on the porch. We’ll just have to take that chance. So it comes into the open for the attack, I come out firing, hopefully blowing its brains out.”

“If you can’t?”

“Then while I keep its attention, you draw that trapping sigil. I’ll do my best to get it in there, and you send it back to hell. Sound good?”

“Sounds awful, but I don’t have any better ideas.”

He rubs my arm. “You’ll do great. Just keep your eyes open.” He steps away, but then a second later turns back around. “Look, if something happens to me … I want you to run. Don’t try to save me, just run. Pick up the girls and drive to Jason’s. Vivian will convince him to help you. She likes you. Force him to take you in. Don’t—”

“Nothing is going to happen,” I say forcefully. “Not to you, not to me. You promised, right?” I squeeze his hard biceps before shutting the trunk. “You die, I swear I’ll bring your ghost back and make your afterlife a living hell.” I squeeze one last time. “Be safe.”

“You too.”

As I move toward the car door, my partner rushes to the nearest house. I start up the car, turn around in Maxine’s driveway, and slowly drive back toward Cheyenne’s. The only citizens outside are old Cray Bradshaw talking to a pretty brunette I can’t place at the moment. They ignore me as I pull into the one spare spot on the street. There are so many cars parked I can’t keep my eye on them all. I shut off the engine but can’t move. I don’t want to get out of this car. I know the demon can get me in here, but I don’t want to be exposed. And Adam’s out there. He’s not afraid. He’s tough. Brave. Of course
he
has a shotgun, and I have spray paint and sage. Still. I’m not leaving him out there alone.

I throw the door open, grab the bag, and force myself out of the car. Every muscle in my body is strained as I stand. The birds chirping on the power lines above work my nerves. What if the demon can control animals? I could become the star of
The Birds II.
They don’t swarm, but I still don’t loosen up as I walk toward Cheyenne’s. My skin is actually starting to ache now from the demon’s power, like it’s stretched too thin, but the street remains quiet. What the hell is it waiting for?

The amulet around my neck heats up like last night, and I press it against my chest. He’s trying something psychic. Maybe when that fails he’ll come at me physically. Having no idea what else to do, I walk up Cheyenne’s driveway to the door. Still nothing. I’m close to quivering in terror now. Maybe it’s inside. I glance back but the only signs of life are Cray and his chatty companion. Okay, I can’t just stand at this door. I touch the door handle and deadbolt, closing my eyes and calling the magic. I whisper,
“Patefacio.”
The locks click and I step inside, locking them again behind myself. Nothing attacks me in here either. The amulet cools.

Cheyenne’s house is not in the best shape with cigarette burns on the carpet and cheap posters of rock bands on the walls complete with ratty second-hand furniture. I especially love the beer can pyramid on the coffee table surrounded by ashtrays full of joints. I open the sliding glass patio door and step into the backyard with plastic green table and chairs covered with more beer cans. “Adam?”

He steps from the side of the house. “Nothing.”

“It tried to put a psychic whammy on me again,” I say.

“Then it has to be in a car or house watching you.”

“Then why not attack—” And the prickling stops. “Feel that? It’s gone.”

“It must have realized you were protected and left to regroup,” Adam suggests.

“You think?” Somehow I don’t buy that. “Should we chase after it?”

“We don’t know which way it went. We’ll track it through calls like before.”

I check the bag for my cell. Not there. “My cell’s in the car. Crap.” I sigh. “Okay, you start searching the house. We’re here, might as well make the best of my felony B&E. We’ll stay until we get a tip.”

“You’re the boss,” he says with a smile.

I rush through the house and back outside onto the empty street. My cell is on the dash where I forgot it. No new calls. With most people at work it’ll be harder to find him, especially if he leaves town again. Just have to get lucky, I guess.

I walk back toward the house, but as I’m about to step inside, a woman shouts, “What the hell are you doing?”

I spin around and find Maxine, Cheyenne’s grandmother, striding down the sidewalk. She’s a tiny woman with wild gray hair and is dressed in stained blue sweats as always. She looks a lot like Granny, as they were half-sisters, though Granny’s scowl didn’t turn you into stone like Maxine’s. “Hello, Miss Maxine,” I say with a smile as I step back out.

That petrifying scowl doesn’t waver. “I’ll ask again, Mona McGregor, what the hell are you doing going to my granddaughter’s house when she’s not there?”

Oh hell. “I, uh … demon. You didn’t feel the demon?”

“Of course I did,” the old woman huffs. “What does that have to do with you breaking into Cheyenne’s house?”

“Uh, Meg said she saw a man go in. We thought it might be the demon. Door was unlocked and all.”

Almost on cue, the door opens. “There’s no trace of it,” Adam says as he steps outside beside me, shotgun swung over his shoulder. “If it was here, it isn’t now.”

If possible Maxine’s scowl grows scarier. “Who is that?”

“My cousin A.J. Cal’s grandson. He’s my backup. A.J., this is Cheyenne’s grandmother Maxine.”

He nods at her. “Nice to meet you.” He turns to me. “It’s not here. We should go.”

“Yes, you should, before I call the sheriff,” Maxine says.

Adam shuts the front door. “Ma’am,” he says with a grin. We start down the driveway. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Maxine folds her arms over her chest and follows us toward the car just in case we make a break for it. Adam climbs in the car, but I turn back to Maxine. “I didn’t see you at the meeting this morning. If you like I can bring you the protection packet I gave out. You really should put up a sigil at least.”

“Don’t you talk down to me, Mona Leigh McGregor. I know how to protect myself a lot better than you.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Just because you’re the High Priestess and live in that fancy house don’t make you better than me, little miss.”

There’s no point fighting with this woman. Many have tried, all have failed. You can’t reason with crazy; you literally get spit on.
“I am sorry if I offended you. Have a nice day.” After another smile, I jump into the car and drive away as fast as I can, the old witch glaring even as we turn the corner. “Bitch.”

“What was that all about?”

“Oh, uh, old resentments. Daddy loved your granny best, so I must take it out on everyone, including people who never met the bastard. Not really her fault. Couldn’t have been easy growing up illegitimate back then. Cheyenne probably bought into her poison.” I shake my head. “You find anything in there?”

“I barely had time to check the closet.”

“We need to get back into that house. The demon was around there for a reason.”

“We’ll think of something.” He pauses. “We make a good team.”

I couldn’t agree more.

• Happy Family Fun Time
  

With no new calls, I drive around town aimlessly for half an hour on the off chance I’ll sense it. No such luck. We do use the time wisely though. Having no fresh leads and a growling stomachs, we return downtown ready to implement “Operation: Hoochie House,” the closest thing to a plan we have, revolting though it may be. I relieve Billie so she and Adam can go to the diner for lunch. Adam returns ten minutes later with our cheeseburgers, a piece of blackberry pie for me, and a date for tonight with our prime suspect. He’ll get her out of her house so I can break in and search it. Easy and hopefully effective. Though when he tells me it’s on, for an instant—mind, just a fleeting, barely-even-there instant so I don’t even know why I’m mentioning it—jealousy rips through my body like a vengeful spirit eating my soul. But just for an instant. Okay,
several
instants. Only about twenty or so.

The rest of the relatively customerless day is spent installing bookcase shelves and prepping for the rest for the renovation, which means cleaning and moving merchandise. The store is even more cluttered and claustrophobic than usual, but I can see how it will all come together in the end. The day’s events and manual labor soon begin to take their toll. I’m yawning every thirty seconds. After I break into Cheyenne’s house, I’m going straight home and flopping into bed. Adam leaves at two thirty to pick up the girls, and seeing as I’m the boss and it isn’t nearly as fun remodeling without the odd appreciative glance at my handyman, I decide to close early. We had a banner day fiscally speaking; probably the best ever. I’ll thank the demon before I send him back to hell.

Billie drops me off at the house just before five. All is quiet, except for that saw. Doesn’t bother me as much tonight. Actually, it’s comforting. I take a step off the sidewalk onto the lawn but can’t make another. Crap, forgot about the invisible fence. I tap the crystal embedded in the ground, step in, and tap it again to re-energize it. Good to know the thing works. When I walk inside, a wonderful smell wafts from the kitchen, roasting chicken I think. That takes me back. Granny was a great cook, and the house always smelled like cookies or glazed ham. Mommy was the same. She loved her Julia Child cookbook. Being a child at the time, all I wanted were hot dogs and chicken nuggets, which Granny provided before I had to go home and eat leek soup. I didn’t inherit the cooking gene from either side of the family.

“Honeys, I’m home!” I shout from the door.

As I hang my coat, the saw is replaced by thumping of shoes on hardwood growing closer until Cora bounds in from the living room. “Aunt Mona, Adam stuck a can of beer up a chicken’s butt! It was so cool!”

“Probably the oddest sentence ever uttered,” I say as I kiss the top of her head.

“I’m painting some more. It’s fun!”

Adam, covered in sawdust and trailing it behind himself onto my floor, saunters in, his hair plastered to his forehead from the sweat. “Hey.”

Damn does he look cute all messy like that. “Hey.”

“I told her about the chicken,” Cora says. “It was funny.”

I raise an eyebrow, and he grins. “It’s for dinner. You marinade the chicken with beer, season it, then stick the can in it, and roast it in the oven. It’s my specialty.”