What's a Witch to Do?: A Midnight Magic Mystery (27 page)

The Captain meows and jumps off the bed as I rip off the rumpled sheets. No reminders from my bad judgment can remain. I need to add laundry to my To Do list. After I make the bed, I start on myself. Oh joy of joys, I get to return to the country club to go through the ceremony and have dinner with the families. I’m sure the staff from my previous sojourn will be there tonight, and I will get many pitying looks. I settle on a light blue blouse and white skirt with sandals, slap on makeup, and brush my hair before stepping out. If the way I feel is any indication, I still look like hell.

When I walk in the girls’ room, they’re both lying on Sophie’s bed looking at a magazine and wearing their best floral print dresses and white sweaters. Without a word, I remove their TV and PS3, hiding them in my closet. The girls haven’t moved when I return. “That is punishment number one. Of twenty. Put your shoes on, we gotta go.”

“Do you hate us?” Cora asks pitifully. “Are you going to send us away now?”

She looks so much like Ivy at that age. She used to do this exact thing to Daddy when he punished her. The pout, the “if you loved me, you wouldn’t do this” eyes. Manipulation at its finest. Not buying it. “No. Put your shoes on.”

They do, and I all but push them down the hall. Adam is coming up the stairs just as we reach them. He smiles at the girls, saying, “You all look very pretty tonight.”

“We’re rehearsing dinner,” Cora says.

“We should be back in about two, three hours,” I say.

“You’re not coming?” Sophie asks him.

“Girls, go wait by the door,” I order. They obey without hesitation. “It’s a small party. I wouldn’t know how to explain you to Greg’s family. The demon’s dead, Cheyenne won’t be there. I’ll be safe.”

I expect protests, but instead he says, “Fine. You’re the boss. I could use a night off anyway.” He walks up the stairs past me. “Being your houseboy takes it out of me.”

“Excuse me? My what?”

He spins around, face hard and angry as a rattler. “Houseboy. You know, slave? Unpaid babysitter, cook, manual laborer, hell even sex toy.”

“Keep your voice down,” I hiss in a low voice as I step toward him. “And you volunteered to be here. I didn’t ask you to do
any
of this.”

“No, you’re right. You didn’t,” he says with attitude. “Don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I forgot, you’re the woman who needs nothing and no one. Well, since you don’t seem to need a bodyguard or anything else anymore, maybe it’s time I left you and your delusions of grandeur alone.”

“Well, maybe you should if you think I’m such a selfish, delusional bitch.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Good! Great!”

“Fine!” He stomps toward his room and slams the door shut.

“Perfect!” I shout before I stamp down the stairs. The girls stand there with the fear of God on their faces. “What? Move your butts! We’re late!” I slam the door shut with a sad sigh.

Yeah, we have to go celebrate love. So why do I feel like I just gave its eulogy?

• Rehearsal dinner
  

I thought I’d have a breakdown or panic attack when I got to the country club, but there are no PTSD flashbacks or even apprehension as I pull up. The girls and I didn’t say a word the whole ride, but by the looks on their faces they’re about as miserable as I am. Hope we don’t infect the rest of the party with our gloom.

They wedding party and families are assembled in the garden by the fountain with the two swans. The wedding planner, Jocasta, talks to the Reverend Potter, going over the details and pointing to the flowers on the hedges. Representing the McGregors are the beaming Debbie, Collins, and bridesmaids Becca, Kaylee, and Chelsea. I recognize Greg’s parents, but the groomsmen and ushers, along with a crying three-year-old boy held by a thin woman, are strangers. Not for long, I’d guess. “Sorry we’re late,” I say as the girls and I walk down the steps. “Insane day.”

“We heard,” Gretchen, Greg’s mother, says. “It must have been so frightening for you.”

“What happened?” one of the groomsmen asks.

“There was a bear here last night,” Gretchen says. “It attacked Mona here.”

“Is it still around?” Becca asks.

“Animal control got it,” I lie. “We’ll be fine. Just a freak thing.”

“Well, we’re glad you’re safe and sound,” Conrad, Greg’s father, says. “Reverend?”

The Reverend Potter smiles. “Everyone please follow me.”

We meander down the gray pebble path toward the seven-foot-tall arch that will be covered with pink roses and daisies on Sunday. Jocasta takes over, telling us where to go, stand, and what to do. On the day I’ll walk Debbie from the clubhouse, past the two hundred plus guests on either side of the path to the arch, where she will pledge her undying love to Greg. The rehearsal goes well with the girls relishing their flower girl duties, tossing imaginary petals with abandon. The ring bearer does begin to cry halfway through, but Debbie’s future sister-in-law takes him away. We go through it twice, which takes an hour, then it’s dinner time.

Jocasta leads us to the patio, the scene of last night’s horror show. Dickie, who adds water to the glasses, is almost grimacing when he sees me. I nod reverently, and he returns the gesture. Debbie leaves her fiancé’s side for the first time tonight to come over to me. “Can we talk?”

“Sure. Girls, behave.”

“I’ll keep an eye on them,” Collins says.

Debbie drags me to the side. “Are you okay? I was so worried. I tried calling a million times.”

“I was very busy. And I’m fine. A hundred percent fine. Don’t worry about me, just worry about buying sunscreen for your honeymoon,” I say, rubbing her arm.

“Of course I’m worried. You had your heart broken, and then almost died.”

“Really,” I chuckle, “I’m fine. It’d take a lot more than a few ugly words and a demon to bring me down. You know that. It’s done, it’s over, I’ve moved on.”

She looks skeptical but says, “Okay. And how are Clay and …
Adam?”

“Fine. We were all very lucky.”

“Why isn’t he here tonight? Shouldn’t he be guarding you?”

“Um, we sort of decided it was time for him to go home.” I start playing with my pendant. “You know, the demon’s dead, and it’s only a matter of time before I can prove Cheyenne’s guilt. He has a life in Maryland. It’s time.”

“You
both
decided this?” she asks.

“Yes. Now stop worrying about me. This is your night. You’re getting married!” I hug her. “I’m so proud of you.” I release her. “Come on. I’m starving.”

I actually get to enjoy my dinner tonight, and the only scenes that are caused are when Collins and Greg toast Debbie. Everyone has a great time. Groomsmen flirt with the bridesmaids, the girls play with the ring bearer, and the happy couple only has eyes for each other. I manage to keep a pleasant smile on my face watching the joy, but inside …

I’m just exhausted. Emotionally, physically, hell even spiritually. I mean … a
houseboy?
Is he kidding? I never,
not once,
took him for granted. I saved his freaking life last night. I didn’t give up on him even when they told me to. I was safe, I didn’t have to go back for him. And I’m paying him for the work on the store, and he never asked for money for cooking and watching the girls. I give him free room and board. And if memory serves, he used me for sex as much as I did him. Houseboy, indeed.

Maybe it would be best if he left. He could stop resenting me and I can stop … the same. He needs to go back to his pack. He needs to go back to his life; once Cheyenne is neutralized, I can go back to mine. Yippee. I can’t wait.

Collins grimaces as a boisterous groomsman talks, and talks, and talks. She needs a rescue, and I need to speak with her. Win win. I grab two salt shakers, putting them in my purse, before going over. “Collins, take a walk with me?”

She glances at the wine-chugging man. “Love to.” She follows me down the patio steps to the grassy hills. “Where are we going?”

“To tie up a loose end from last night.”

“I heard what happened. What was the demon doing here?”

“It was here to kill me,” I say nonchalantly.

“What?” she asks, shocked. “Why?”

I stop walking and turn to her. “Because your sister wants me dead.” I start strolling alone as I let those words sink in, but within a few seconds she runs to my side. Before she can bombard me with questions, we reach the grave. It’s just a mound of dirt where the earth cracked. More than she deserves. I pull out the two shakers and hand one to Collins. “We need to salt the ground just to be safe.” I pour salt into my hand and sprinkle it like seed. She follows my lead. “She teamed up with a vampire in Richmond named Alejandro. Has Cheyenne ever mentioned him?”

“I—I don’t know,” she says. “I can never keep her boyfriends straight.”

“You know it’s kind of odd you haven’t jumped to her defense yet. If you accused Debbie of the same thing, I’d probably claw your eyes out. Talk to me, Collins.”

She pauses, then asks, “Do you have any proof?”

“
I know she’s been to Alejandro’s club. I know she has a black magic grimoire stashed somewhere. I know the demon was around her house. I know I’m not her favorite person. I know there are only four people in line for my job, and she’s one of them.”

“So am I, but … that’s why you asked me if I wanted to be Priestess. You were testing me.”

“And you passed. That and you’re one of the few without a single tie to Alejandro. I ruled Erica out last night, can’t see Shirley doing it, Whitney is fourteen, so Cheyenne it is. The demon even looked like her. I just need proof.”

“I—I can’t help you. I’m sorry.”

“A lot of people almost died last night, Collins. She did that. Next time it could be the girls. Or Debbie.” I walk over to her. “Listen, I know she’s your sister. I know deep down that you love her and want to protect her, but she’s dangerous. To us all. I’m asking, no I’m
begging,
not only as your High Priestess but as the woman who helped you get ready for junior prom. Who took you to the doctor to get on the pill. Who baked your birthday cake four years in a row. I need your help.
Please.”

She opens and closes her mouth a few times, but words don’t come out. I know this is tough on her. I hate myself for asking, but I’m out of options. If she doesn’t help me, that’s it. Finally, she says, “Of course.”

I hug the girl. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

She pulls away. “I’m not surprised, you know. She’s damn jealous of you and Debbie, has been since we were kids. Meemaw’s doing, I guess. She hates your grandmother even now. And there’s always been something wrong with Cheyenne, that’s not news. When we were kids, she used to catch butterflies then burn them with a magnifying glass and laugh. She tried to starve our pets too. Daddy would smack her, but she kept at it.” Collins shakes her head. “What do you need exactly?”

“We searched her house and locker at work but didn’t find anything. I just need proof she’s linked to Alejandro or the demon. Anything. That grimoire would be useful too.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” She pauses again. “Did you really suspect me? Seriously?”

“For all of three seconds. I mean, you’re practically my sister too. You’re more a sister to me than Ivy even.”

She smiles. “I think the same about you. I kind of always wished it was true.”

“Thank you.” I take a deep breath and sigh. “Okay, let’s finish up here. Even with it dead, I feel the evil.” I start throwing salt again.

“Are you sure it can’t come back?”

“Nope. But even
I’m
not that unlucky.”

“Famous last words.”

Goddess, I hope not.

• Sleep for twenty years
  

I make my excuses to the party, going with the always-effective school night defense, and herd the girls to the curb. After last night I decided to splurge and valet the car. Our chariot arrives a minute later, and we’re out of there. It’s almost their bedtime, so they slump in the back with heavy eyes. I feel the same way. I can’t wait to climb under the covers and fade into oblivion.

About halfway home Cora says, “Aunt Mona, why did you yell at Adam?”

“I didn’t yell. We had a discussion.” Loudly.

“Is he going to his home now?” Cora asks.

“I—I don’t know, sweetie. But if he is, we’ll be okay. We’re tough chicks, we don’t need him.”

“I don’t want him to leave,” she whines.

I bite my lower lip. “He has a life, sweetie. He has a job, and friends, and a home he needs to get back to.”

“He won’t leave,” Sophie says with certainty. “He promised he’d film the pageant.”

“Honey, I can film it,” I say.

“I know, but he promised. He won’t leave until then,” she says with finality. She pauses, and then asks, “We really can’t watch TV for a month?” I shake my head no. “That sucks.”

“Language!”

The rest of the ride not a word is uttered. As the miles pass I grow more and more apprehensive, and by the time we pull into the driveway, my whole body might as well be made of stone. All the lights are off. No life inside. He must have called a taxi to the train station. Damn it. I start playing with my hair. I don’t want to go into that house. I know I’m not going to like what I find in there. The girls have no such worries. Getting a second wind, they leap out and run to the door like race cars. I pull my wrecked body upright and slowly amble toward the door, unlocking it.

Cora squeezes in before it’s all the way open, shouting, “Adam?”

I turn on the foyer light with a sigh. No noise except us. Cora stomps up the stairs shouting his name. I set down my purse as Sophie moves into the dark living room and kitchen. Cora stops shouting. The silence is maddening. That’s when it hits me like a two by four. He really left. He’s gone. A wave of sadness ripples through me. He wouldn’t. No. He promised. He—

“What kind of flowers did you imagine?”

I inhale a ragged breath. I must have stopped breathing. Hell’s bells.