Midlife Curses

by Christine Zane Thomas

  So, how is he going to manage both?

  “Over the next few hours,” he said, “we’ll need to clear out anything that might’ve spoiled or gone out of date over the past couple of days. It won’t be much, but I want the whole store tended to while I conduct interviews with a few individuals about some newly open positions. Does that sound fair?”

  More murmurs.

  So, he’s going to promote from within—a solid business practice.

  I wished Dave was still there, I needed to tell him about Jade.

  But I also wanted to say something to him, something not about murder or groceries.

  Remember—you’re not divorced yet, I reminded myself. And Dave came with baggage. Cute baggage, like designer luggage.

  Cyrus was giving us that expectant look again.

  Hal was the first to come to Cyrus’s aid. “We should start with the milk,” he said. “And there’ll some spoiled produce, for sure.”

  “Sounds good.” Cyrus nodded his approval. “If you’ll take the milk, I’m sure Nick and his crew can handle the produce. That reminds me, we’ll have a truck to unload tomorrow morning. I want us open on time, if possible. This town needs their groceries.”

  “Very possible!” Hal’s chipper voice was like a salute.

  Everyone went to work.

  “Constance,” Cyrus waved me over, “I’d like to speak with you first, if I may.”

  “Sure.” I glanced at Trish for support—which she failed to offer.

  “He likes you.”

  “But we don’t like him,” I whispered.

  “We? I thought you were on his side the other day.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Trish smirked. “Then don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  Cyrus led me to the breakroom. He shuddered—so did I—as we passed Mr. Caulfield’s office. While I was glad not to have this meeting there, I also wondered why it would give him the creeps. Surely it had been cleaned after Mr. Caulfield’s death. Undeath?

  Cyrus closed the door behind us.

  “Do you know why I wanted to talk with you?” he asked.

  “Honestly, I don’t.”

  He smiled. “You were surprised to see me this morning. It was written all over your face. After the way we met, you’re probably a little suspicious of me—the way I’ve inserted myself into your town. I wouldn’t blame you if you are.”

  I shrugged. “It’s not my town. But yes, it is a tad convenient. We run into you the day of the murder and now here you are, in charge of this place. My new boss.”

  “Trust me, Constance, it’s anything but convenient. I don’t want to be here just as much as you don’t want me here. However, it’s what’s best for the city. And that’s what matters right now.”

  “I never said I didn’t want you—”

  “You didn’t have to say it.” He held up his hand to shush me. “You’re telling me right now—again, with your face. Your attitude. Like your friend Trish when I stepped into her shop.”

  “All right,” I snapped. “That still doesn’t tell me why you called me in here. I do still have a job, right?”

  “You do. I looked at your file. You’ve had quite a few jobs. Really good ones. All before you turned forty.”

  Just before, I thought. And as of today, that point was moot. I’d turned that dreaded corner. I was over the hill.

  “Many of your previous positions include some type of management—both people and products. Now, do you see what I’m getting at?”

  “I’m sorry but I don’t.”

  “Management, Constance. I’m trying to give you a job. A new one.”

  “Wait. I thought—”

  “You thought I was going to run this place? No. No.” He shook his head. “I have way too much going on at the vineyard. I can’t run this place too. I’d really like to leave it in your capable hands.”

  “My hands? Didn’t you see that I was fired from my last job?”

  “The article I read said your firing was discriminatory and you probably had a solid chance at a lawsuit.”

  “And how does that qualify me for this job? Software and grocery stores aren’t exactly the same thing.”

  “No, you’re right, they’re not,” he agreed. “Should I give the job to go to someone else?”

  I thought of Trish. She’d worked here longer. She ran her own bookstore. Plus, she could use the salary boost.

  I wasn’t planning on staying here long. I needed to learn more magic, learn more about the Faction, and try to find my mom. I didn’t want this responsibility on top of that.

  If Trish wanted the job, I wanted it to be hers.

  “There’s someone who would be much better than me,” I told him.

  “Who—Trish?” He shook his head when I nodded mine. “Heavens no. You remember how she treated me in her store, don’t you? She’s not a person I’d put in charge. No I have other options. Jade, for instance.”

  I gaped at him.

  “You know, Jade… the butcher?”

  17

  Paranormal Podcasts

  Later that afternoon, Brad, Stevie, and I made our way to Bewitched Books to hang out with Trish and Twinkie. I’d never seen Stevie go anywhere outside the neighborhood and was surprised by his offer to tag along.

  The three familiars were immediately off doing familiar things. They were like kids needing to go outside and play.

  “What do they do when they go off like that?” I asked Trish.

  She shrugged. “Play in the shadow realm. Speak that gobbledygook to each other.”

  “Oh.” I’d expected something more interesting.

  “Now, are you going to tell me what Cyrus wanted with you or what?”

  I gave Trish a rundown of my talk with Cyrus.

  “I thought I told you not to do anything I wouldn’t do,” Trish said. “I would totally have taken that gig.”

  “That’s kind of the problem,” I said. “I thought he’d give you the job if I didn’t take it.”

  “Seriously? After the other day? What were you thinking? Oh snap. He didn’t give the store to Hal, did he?”

  “Not Hal.”

  “Nick?” she guessed.

  “Not Nick.”

  “Then who?”

  “Jade,” I said with some trepidation.

  Trish didn’t pick up on it. “Oh, I guess that’s a solid choice.”

  “Is it?” I asked, deciding not to say anything about the death stare she was giving me during the meeting. “I was thinking. Where was she the morning I, uh, you know…”

  “When you found the body?”

  “I’m being serious,” I said, realizing Trish wasn’t picking up my vibes. “And what about the night before? I heard her and Mr. Caulfield in his office fighting. He wanted her to be back at work that night.”

  “And?”

  “And she said she couldn’t come.”

  “That probably means she didn’t,” Trish said. “Come on. There’s absolutely no way she did it. She’s sweet. Plus, there’s not a magical bone in her body. Remember, we’re dealing with someone who made daylight.”

  Trish was sorting through a bin of dropped off books. Someone had donated their stash of Eighties romances, complete with Fabio covers. I picked one up. The yellowed pages felt brittle.

  “I remember,” I said. “I know a lot more about daylight now. Gran had to make some for Dave. It’s nasty stuff. She left a cauldron to ferment in the downstairs bathroom. It’s like we’re homebrewing beer.”

  “Weird,” Trish said. “What’s Dave going to use it for?”

  “For some sort of testing.” I shrugged, feeling like we hadn’t fully explored my suspicions about Jade.

  I grabbed another book and put it in Trish’s keep pile, a favorite from my reading too much romance phase. I could never work in a bookstore. I’d want to keep them all.

  Trish inspected the book. “This cover is creepy looking.”

  “You should know not to judge
a—”

  “I’m going to stop you there.” Trish put up a hand. “There’s a reason books have covers. And it’s to judge them. And this one is creepy.”

  “Creepy,” I repeated, the gears of my mind shifting. “Hey. What if she found out?”

  “Who?” Trish questioned.

  “Jade,” I said.

  “About?”

  “About Mr. Caulfield!”

  “You’ve got to warn me when you change topics like that.” Trish said. “Even if Jade knew, she’d still need a witch or a magic book to make the potion.”

  “There’s plenty of witches around here,” I said. “How well do we really know them? What if that Lauren girl is besties with Jade? What then?”

  Trish considered that. “I guess you’re right. Dave did ask me about everyone when he was in here yesterday. What—why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I’m not looking at any kind of way.”

  “Constance! Yes, you are. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you really do have a crush on Dave Marsters. And you’re jealous he came over here.”

  “I’m not jealous,” I said defensively. “It’s not like I have the hots for him. I just think he’s nice.”

  “Okay, that’s a lie,” Trish said. “You definitely have the hots for him.”

  “I mean he is weirdly cute.” I sighed.

  “I guess,” she agreed. “If you’re into his type.”

  “The hunk of manly man with a lot of chest hair type?”

  “The man type.” She waited for my floundering brain to catch up.

  “Oh! Oh… Really?” That hadn’t even occurred to me.

  “Don’t worry. You’re not my type either.” She smirked.

  “Thanks. Or not thanks?”

  “Oh, don’t be offended,” she said. “You’re too tall for me. But see, there’s nothing to be jealous about. I just had some information that you don’t. You only met a few witches the other night. There’s a lot more in the area, and they all use this shop.”

  I was finally able to be honest with myself. Trish was right. Jealousy had snuck up on me. I was jealous of her. Jealous of Gran. I needed to think about something else. Well, I had my powers now, maybe I should start using them. “I just wish I could be more help,” I said.

  “Babe, you’re a novice witch with no education. How much help do you think you can be?”

  I shrugged.

  Trish rolled her eyes. “I’ll be sure to include you next time he sends me out on a secret mission. Now, tell why you think Jade could be our culprit?”

  I told her about the meeting. Jade knew that I knew—I was privy to her spat with Mr. Caulfield. I needed to tell Dave.

  “Or maybe she thinks it’s you,” Trish countered.

  “I don’t know. I think that’d be worse. Why would anyone think it was me?”

  “It’s pretty common knowledge you didn’t like him.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s all right. It’s not like she knows you’re a witch. And she didn’t know anything about Mr. Caulfield, either.”

  Trish’s reassurance didn’t work. “No. That’s what I was trying to say. What if she did?”

  “You keep saying that. I don’t see how she could have—”

  “Have you heard of Creel Creek After Dark?” I asked.

  “Of what?”

  “It’s a podcast.”

  “I’ve heard of podcasts,” Trish said. “I’m not into them. Wait. Did you say Creel Creek?”

  I nodded. “Well, I am into them. And I found this one—it’s about us. About paranormals, that is. The good thing is the rest of the country probably thinks it’s a joke. But maybe it’s kind of real.”

  “You know it’s real.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not sure if the hosts know it’s real.”

  “Who are they?”

  “They use pseudonyms. Silly ones. Athena Hunter and Ivana Stake.”

  “Ivana Stake? Or Ivana Steak? That could be Jade.”

  “I know. That’s what I was thinking.”

  “When did you start thinking it?” Trish asked.

  “Just a minute ago.”

  Trish laughed. “You’re telling me you hadn’t put that together until now?”

  “I think I had, on some level,” I protested.

  “The lower level.” She grinned. “I’d bet money the other host is Summer Shields.”

  “I thought she was a reporter.”

  “Side gigs.” Trish motioned at her stack of books. “We’ve all got ’em. The question is, do they really know anything, or are they spouting nonsense.”

  “We can listen to one, if you want.”

  At that moment, there was a rustling of feet. Many sets of feet. Then something smashed into a bookshelf, hard. Several books topped from their shelves.

  “Ouch,” Brad’s sonorous voice said.

  A second later, Twinkie scurried across the bookstore with Stevie in hot pursuit.

  “What’s going on?” Trish asked.

  “Stevie’s gone native,” Twinkie gasped, scurrying up Trish’s legs. Soon, there was a tangle of cat twisted around her ankles.

  “My bad,” Stevie said, as if coming to. “The shadow realm always does that to me. I should’ve warned you.”

  “Lucky, I was able to run interference,” Brad said, rubbing at the back of his head.

  “What were you doing in the shadow realm?” I asked.

  “Playing shadow tag,” Twinkie offered. “It keeps us on our A-game. And Brad had never played.”

  “The second we returned,” Brad said, “this one went full cat mode.”

  “I’m sorry,” Stevie bellowed. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Too right, it won’t.” The mouse, whose head had emerged from Trish’s cleavage, hunkered back down.

  Brad gave me a shrug. If anything, he was as far from native raccoon as possible.

  “I guess we should get going.”

  “No,” Trish shook her head. “I want to hear this podcast. I need to see if they’re outing us to the whole town.”

  I went into the Podcasts app on my phone and scrolled. “Let’s listen to this one—it’s about the murder.”

  Trish nodded enthusiastically. “We’ll know if it’s Jade in a few seconds. I’ve heard her voice a thousand times. You’ve got me a little uneasy about your theory, but I still don’t think Jade would hurt a fly.”

  “She’s a butcher,” I said. “She carves animals for a living.”

  “Not while they’re alive.”

  “What about Summer?” I asked. “Exposing a story like this could put her on the map.”

  “But it didn’t,” Trish argued. “There was a barely a news story.”

  “I didn’t mean the news story.” I held up the phone. “I meant the podcast. At ten thousand listens and counting.”

  18

  Creel Creek After Dark Episode 45

  It’s getting late.

  Very late.

  The creeping dread of tomorrow haunts your dreams.

  It’s dark out. Are you afraid?

  Welcome to Creel Creek After Dark.

  Athena: I’m your host Athena Hunter. With me, as always, is the lovely Ivana Steak.

  Ivana: That’s right, I’m Ivanna Steak. And I’m totally lovely. Except I’m not quite up there with our host Athena.

  Athena: Aw, you’re too kind.

  Ivana: Welcome to the show where we cut deep into the strange happenings, stranger people, and even weirder history of Virginia’s spookiest town, Creel Creek.

  Athena: This is an odd episode.

  Ivana: Aren’t they all?

  Athena: What I meant to say, before I was so rudely interrupted, is this is an unplanned episode. Next week, we’ll be back to our normal schedule. It’s almost time for the one we’ve been talking about forever. The vineyard episode is coming, people. Be prepared.

  Ivana: I think our listeners might want to know why their ears are subject to
this unplanned episode.

  Athena: Because of this week’s strange happening. I’m not sure I’d even call it a happening. Definitely strange. And more of a tragedy, wasn’t it?

  Ivana: Yes, a tragedy. We’re sorry if we’re not our usual snarky selves.

  Athena: Are you calling me snarky, Ivana?

  Ivana: No, Athena, I called us snarky. But yes, you’re the snarkiest snark to ever snarkle in Snark Lake.

  Athena: Snarkle in Snark Lake? Did you come up with that yourself?

  Ivana: Again, no, Athena, you wrote that into the script to prove your snarkiness. leaving it up to me to right this ship and get us back on course.

  Athena: Oh, right, I did.

  Ivana: I guess that leaves it up to me to right this ship and get us back on course.

  Athena: The tragedy.

  Ivana: Yes, the tragedy.

  Athena: We have it on good authority that the vampire—the Creel Creek Bloodsucker himself—is no longer with us.

  Ivana: That’s right. you’ll recall our discussion of the Creel Creek Bloodsucker in episode fifteen. Well, there’s evidence that this vampire had lived in our little town for over a hundred and fifty years, under different aliases.

  Athena: And just recently we learned who the Bloodsucker was. Photographic proof can be seen our website.

  Athena: Now Ivana, can you remind the audience again why we call him The Bloodsucker?

  Ivana: Well, apart from one killing in 1912 attributed to blood loss, there have been no deaths linked to the Bloodsucker. It was the 1950s when things got truly interesting. That’s when plastic bags began to be used for blood storage. And our hospital’s supply ran low. After a search, they found bags in the basement, empty, with two holes punctured in each.

  Athena: As if someone sucked the blood out of the bags.

  Ivana: Exactly.

  Athena: But how do we know this person—the person who died—was the Bloodsucker?

  Ivana: We know because we know how to spot a vampire. There are several characteristics common to all vampires and the Bloodsucker had them all.

  Athena: And we have this on what authority?

  Ivana: Mine.

  Athena: That’s pretty good authority.