“Of course, we have bacon,” I said, going to the fridge and pulling out a package. As I cooked, Beeval watched, Evil sleeping on his head. Beeval made a soft humming noise.
It was great. All of this—it was great. For the moment, anyway. And given the way things were going, we had to take these moments.
“So where do you think Mariah might be?” I asked without turning around.
DeAnna was bringing plates to the sink. “Mariah left after her daughter died. We found the tiniest obituary notice in the archives of the paper.”
“Kids died a lot in those days,” I said. “Sadly.”
I glanced over to see her nodding. “Yes, Mom mentioned that. She said that people always marveled at the four of you—not only because Meema had you, but that all four of you and Meema lived. She said it didn’t help your witchy reputation.”
I frowned. “She was right. I still think Granny used magic. Like, she either knew that Meema would never get another chance, or she wanted all four of us to live.”
“Both, probably,” Deirdre said, carrying more plates.
“I wish she could remember,” Dee said from the table.
“I don’t,” Granny materialized from the wall.
“Your ears burning?” Deirdre asked. “Or were you just eavesdropping?”
“Both,” Granny snapped. “I honestly don’t remember. I put warding spells around your mother, and healing spells, and I was praying to the Goddess every day. She was bigger than a house. Since I’d never seen a woman have more than one baby, I was worried nearly to death, and that’s no exaggeration. I wasn’t sure what to do beyond herbals and healing spells and protection spells.”
“How did she manage to have four of us?” Daniella asked.
Granny shrugged. “I don’t know. We talked about it, and best we can figure, between her praying to the Goddess for more than one baby from Jack Fitzgerald before he died, and me setting spells, and your mom setting her own spells after Jack died, they all hit at once. I really don’t know,” she finished.
“You’re not exactly the most reliable narrator,” I said.
“Well, you forget things,” Granny shrugged again. “I’m glad it worked, though.”
“You might as well stay, Granny,” Dee said. “We think we traced Mariah.”
“Really?” Granny looked pleased at the change of subject.
I was pretty sure she was tired of being badgered but holy hell. She’d left us a mess, one that we were still trying to clean up. And she didn’t have answers, which was decidedly inconvenient. Nor was letting things lie the Nightingale way. I snickered to myself.
Granny drifted toward the table where Dee sat. “What did you find?”
“Let me get the dishes out of the way,” Dee got up, but I was at her elbow.
“Here, let me get them. Talk loud so we can all hear and you don’t have to repeat yourself.” I walked back to the kitchen, turning off the stove and depositing the dishes in the sink. Beeval was hopping back and forth on one foot as I patted the bacon down with paper towels. I gave him a plate piled with bacon strips. Balancing the plate, and moving carefully so as not to disturb Evil, Beeval made his way to the table.
We’d told him that he could and should sit with us. In the last week or so, he’d been making the effort. We had a higher chair for him, because he was too short to reach the table if he sat in a different chair.
I thanked the Goddess that we had curtains on the windows and no neighbors on this side. There was no way to explain this one.
“Is she still alive?” I asked.
Dee made a face. “I can’t tell. I pulled up the file I was working on. I know where she went. And she has descendants, although I can’t tell if it’s like you all and your descendants.”
“That would be the smart thing to do,” Granny said.
“Well?” Daniella asked. “Where is she?”
“We found an article about an herbalist and spiritual woman moving to Cheyenne, Wyoming in 1877, which seems to be the right time. It only lists her as Mrs. Connors,” DeAnna said.
“That sounds right, but we have no way of knowing,” Deirdre said.
Dee sighed. “We’re going to need to go and visit.”
“And say what?” I asked. “That your granny cursed ours, and could you manage that?” I smiled at Dee to let her know I wasn’t mocking her. “You three were raised with the idea of the crazy Deadwood aunts and some of what goes with that. Most people aren’t.”
“It’s worth a shot,” DeAnna said.
“It is,” Daniella said slowly. “Someone with that much anger isn’t going to let it die with them, if she did in fact die.”
“Why wouldn’t she?” Dee asked.
“Because witches live longer,” Deirdre said.
“Well, then let’s plan on that,” DeAnna said, as though it were settled. “We traced enough obituaries to know that there are people in her family still there. We can say we’re tracking down some of the original people in Deadwood.”
“You’re becoming quite the sneaky one,” I said to DeAnna.
“It’s the bad influence of the crazy Deadwood aunts,” she replied without cracking a smile.
We talked late into the night, planning for Dee and DeAnna to go to see the Connors, if they were the Connors we were looking for. I had a feeling they were—but I left that out. Dee was already nervous. I could tell that that she was worried for Deana.
I had to wonder what the hell my niece was getting into. I sent a prayer to the Goddess to keep her safe. Vampires were tricky bastards, and could be extremely ruthless. We mixed a huge batch of the spray, and bottled up five travel sized bottles for Deana.
On Dee’s suggestion, we added some vanilla, so it would smell like, with the lavender and vanilla, a body spray. Nothing more. The bottles were carefully packed and Deirdre printed off a tracking slip for the box. It would be picked up first thing in the morning.
Then we bottled a small spray bottle for each of the six of us.
“I think this might take away some of my cool guy points,” Zane said.
“I think you’re able to handle it,” I said, my whole body warming as our eyes met. After a moment, I looked away. “I think we need to go to Deadwood Gulch tomorrow.”
“It’s Tuesday,” Daniella said. “We don’t have to open.”
“Pretty convenient,” Deirdre agreed. “Might as well.”
“We can see if we can blast through the spell,” I said. I hated the idea that a spell cast by someone else had stopped me. And I made fun of the vampires for having too much pride. “We also need to call Deana and let her know the vampire no more spray is on the way.”
There was a moment of silence, and then everyone started to laugh.
“What?” I asked.
“Vampire no more?” Dee asked between laughing.
“Vamp no mo,” I said, grinning. “The future of the Nightingale fortune.”
I didn’t know why, but the name stuck, and by the time we’d cleaned up, VampNoMo was the only thing anyone was calling it.
“If we do sell this, we just call it No More, or Delay Spray,” Daniella said. “We’ll sell more that way.”
“Oooh, I like that. Delay Spray,” I said. “But it will always be VampNoMo to me.”
She laughed.
We all went upstairs for a last cup of tea, and then everyone went to bed. Leaving me alone with Zane.
Totally not deliberately, I’m sure.
He came to me, and put his arms around me. I let myself relax into him, liking the feeling of having someone I could hug and kiss be a part of my team.
“We still have a date planned,” Zane murmured into my hair. “Two more days.”
“Yes, we do,” I said.
He kissed me, and how long we stood there kissing like teenagers, I wasn’t sure. But we stepped back from one another, as though by unspoken agreement. We were taking it slow, and I liked that.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
<
br /> “Don’t go running off to catch zombies by yourself,” I teased.
“I’ll call you first,” he promised. “But otherwise, we’re going into the gulch and finish this.”
“Abso-fuckin’-lutely,” I said.
Zane leaned down to give me one last kiss, and then was out the door.
For the second time in a week, I floated upstairs and went to bed with a smile on my face. It was nice. I could get used to this.
Chapter Eleven
The next morning, we left Dee and DeAnna at Pearl Street. I reminded them that the delivery guy would be there to pick up the spray for Deana. Daniella, Deirdre, and I headed to the shop. We needed to feed Mr. Shuffles the zombie, and I had to figure out our next move in regards to the person or people hanging out in Deadwood Gulch.
“What is this, a full moon? Is Mercury in retrograde?” I grumbled to no one in particular at the shop as I pulled chicken out of the fridge. “When was the last time we had a month like this?”
“We were due for it,” Deirdre said as she pulled out several bags of herbs. We were going to make a few more spell bags, since Dee and DeAnna were coming with us to the gulch, and despite our words of encouragement, they wanted a little boost. We’d need to break them of that, but maybe right now wasn’t the best time.
We not only sold loose tea, we sold some loose herbs, for cooking and for what people thought of as spell work. There was a local group of women who bought herbs from us for just that. It was harmless, however. To my way of thinking, better they get it, along with advice, from us than someone else.
Besides, none of them had the talent. I always checked out our local witches, to see if there was anyone we needed to bring into the fold. It hadn’t happened in years.
Zane came in through the back door a little later, and I ignored the fact that my heart leapt when I saw him, as well as the fact that he looked really good. “Hey,” I said. Focus, I thought.
“Is our friend still here?” he asked, nodding his head in the direction of the basement.
“He is.”
“You get the note?”
“Didn’t I tell you about it? I did,” I said. “I thought I told you about it.”
“What did it say? I don’t remember you saying anything,” Zane asked.
“Daniella, where’s the note?”
“On my work tray,” Daniella said without looking up from where she was measuring herbs.
I went to find the tray she’d been working on. The note was still there, and I set the tray on the counter in front of us.
Zane put his hands behind his back and leaned down to inspect the note. “Smells like Note guy,” he said.
“Well, I only got it off him recently. It’s been with him for quite a while.”
“Any idea what the numbers are?” he asked, leaning to one side and then the other looking at the note.
“We don’t know. A spell, maybe?”
“Who uses numbers for spells?” Zane asked.
“That was my point,” Daniella called out.
I shrugged. “Everyone has their own thing when it comes to spells,” I said.
“It’s strange,” Zane said.
“It is. Note guy gave it up after I got that. The pin holding it on him was spelled—” I stopped as Zane stood up.
“What kind of spell?”
“It hurt when I pulled the pin out. It should be there with the note. I could feel magic on the note, too.”
“I wonder who the magic was for,” Zane said, looking down at the note again. He pulled out his phone and took a picture of it.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Was it for you, or someone who would touch the note, so they didn’t touch it? Or was it for the zombie?”
“Why not both?” Deirdre came over, tying off a spell bag. “Here, tie these,” she handed me several. “A protection spell and I don’t know, an instruction spell all rolled into one?”
“That takes away from both,” I said.
“Not if you don’t need a lot of juice,” Daniella said.
“It seems lazy,” I replied.
“It is,” Deirdre said. “Totally lazy. Not everyone has our work ethic,” she grinned at me. “You think we have enough to make them feel better?”
I nodded. “Let’s feed Shuffles,” I wondered if it was a bad sign on some front that we kept naming our zombies, “and get back to the house. Once the spray is picked up, we can get going.”
I walked down the stairs to the basement, Zane right behind me. I liked that he came with me. Not that there was any reason he needed to. I just liked it.
The zombie was still there—although where would he go?—but he was not as lively. Yesterday, he’d been bumping against the bars of the cage. Now, he was still bumping, but it was slower, less forceful.
Tossing the chicken through the bars, I watched him. It took a moment for the smell of the chicken to hit the zombie. When it did, I could see indecision on him.
“Weird,” I muttered, stepping back to watch.
The zombie really wanted the chicken. But he was reluctant to leave off trying to get out. That meant that whatever was driving him was very strong. That didn’t seem like the work of a lazy spell caster.
All of the things we were discovering didn’t really make sense. It would, though. Once we found the ass who was behind all this. Other people’s motives often looked confusing to an outsider.
The chicken finally won, and the zombie fell to the floor, eating enthusiastically.
“One thing taken care of,” I said. “Let’s get back to Pearl Street.”
As we went back upstairs, Zane touched my hand, and with my sisters, we locked up the shop. I felt like one of the reasons we’d survived so long was that we never forgot that we had to live here, had to keep things going, no matter what it was we were fighting against. We always took care of the shop. Even now, when there was a less than welcome visitor there. We always made sure we could still live there after whatever our latest crisis had passed.
That was both the blessing and curse of only having one place you could go. You had to take care of that one place.
Pulling up to the garage at Pearl Street, I saw that the delivery truck was leaving, turning off Pearl Street.
“Did they take the package?” I called out as we all came into the kitchen.
“They did,” Dee said. “And gave us a tracking number. It will be there tomorrow.”
“Let’s call Deana,” DeAnna said, watching her daughter.
Deana answered on the first ring, and she sounded tired.
“Put it on speaker,” I said.
Dee did so. “We’ve sent the vamp spray,” she said to Deana.
“Call it by its rightful name!” Deirdre shouted.
Dee sighed. “All right, all right. Keep your hair on. The Vamp NoMo spray should be there today.”
Deana burst out laughing on the other end of the phone. “Who named that? Gran?” she asked, and we could hear her giggling a little.
That, more than anything, gave me a little hope. Even more than laughter. And I found that I was snickering a little myself at the thought of DeAnna naming it.
“You actually made it!” Deana finished, although I could tell she was trying not to laugh.
“We did, And no, Gran did not name it,” Dee said. “As I’m sure you know. It was Daniella. We shipped it express, and it should be there shortly, according to the tracking number.”
“What does it do?” Deana asked.
“Spray it at the vampire in question, and they’ll fall down in a deep sleep, giving you about seven and a half minutes to get away,” Dee smiled as she relayed the results of our experiments.
“What, you tested it?” Deana asked.
“Sort of,” Dee hedged.
“What does that mean? This is my ass, Mom.”
“Well, there’s a zombie in the basement at the shop,” Dee said quickly.
I understood her hesitation. It sounded re
ally bad to tell someone we had a zombie in a cage in our tea shop.
“What? Why do you—you know what? Never mind. I don’t want to know right now. But I will be asking for details later. So when you sprayed the zombie, it knocked them for seven plus minutes?” Deana was all business now.
“Yes. On average. Sometimes, it went a little longer. But I think if you plan for six minutes, you’ll be fine.” Dee looked at us to make sure she had the numbers right.
Deirdre and I nodded at her.
“I love you, Mom,” Deana said. I could hear the relief in her tone. “I have until tomorrow. So if things go to shit, I’m out of here. I’ll lock up the house.”
“Just send me a text. Tell me that you burned a pan, or something,” Dee was worried again.
“Mom, thanks. I know you have other things to do,” Deana said.
“Well, none of us are on a deadline, so this was more important. How are things on your end?” Dee asked.
I rolled my eyes. Not on a deadline? Please. We lived on deadlines. Then I realized Dee was toning it down so that Deana wouldn’t worry. Deana was on her own.
It wasn’t very often that I wished we could travel and keep our power. I wanted to be there to help her.
“Not as good as yours. The Vamp NoMo spray is timely,” Deana replied. The worry was back.
“Deana, honey, if it comes to that, you run your ass off. You get far away, and don’t even text me. But I would appreciate it if you locked down everything whenever you leave the house.” Dee’s voice was firm.
“I’m doing it now. I need to go into the office, Mom, so I’m going to go,” Deana said.
“I wish I was there,” Dee said.
“I’m glad you’re not,” Deana sounded very firm on this. “It would make me worry more. No one’s going to come at you up there.”
“That’s not necessarily a comfort,” Dee’s brow was wrinkled.
“Nothing is right now. Except NoMo spray.” Deana laughed.
Everyone laughed at that and then all of us, the Nightingales and Hollidays, said, “Love you,” at the same time.
Dee hung up, and stood still, her hand still on the phone. I moved toward her, giving her a hug. “Deana’s going to be all right.”
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