He had secrets.
And I was going to find out what they were.
Chapter 6
Come on, old girl, I thought, give me something. But Maude just continued to stare up at me accusingly, the same as the night before.
I tipped back in my chair and stretched my neck, wincing when it gave out an audible pop. I had been sitting here for going on an hour, trying desperately to summon my magic, to feel that familiar spark again, but so far…nothing.
Not a single word.
On top of the strange sense of loss and grief at the lack of connection between Maude and I, there was also the sense of responsibility weighing on my chest like an anvil. How was I supposed to help get us out of this mess if I couldn’t even use any of my powers?
The new day had started out so well, too. After a relatively smooth morning, I’d been holding out hope that things were finally on the upswing for us again. We had gotten an early start, as planned, so that we could pack up our things and head to the bakery. We were all feeling on edge, and none of us had slept very well the night before. Trying to get some rest in those dusty old chairs had left us all cranky and sore, with Mee-maw looking particularly worse for wear for the first couple hours—our basement slumber party hadn’t done any favors for her sciatica.
But for all that, getting to the bakery—something I had been nervous about ever since it had been brought up—had gone off without a hitch. In the early morning light, the streets had been largely empty. Patrick had gone to fetch the car and had taken a ride by the bakery before picking us up. He seemed more than pleased to report that there was no one guarding it. With no idea how long that window would be open, we’d packed up the car and hustled over.
It had all worked out…well, rather perfectly, but I guess it was my own fault for getting too optimistic. We were still in the thick of it, as Maude’s resistance was proving to me now.
Well, maybe all hope wasn’t lost. Trudy had come to us in the basement before we’d left, her arms full of bags; she had gone out and gotten us as many of the supplies we had texted her as she could find. Everything from potion ingredients and ritual components, to alleged tools for casting spells she had thought might come in handy, and snacks. More than that, though, she had brought us some interesting information about the town’s witch population—nothing that could help us against the Organization, but she was already proving to be a valuable set of eyes and ears.
The librarian had seemed positively crestfallen that we were leaving so soon, and I had to admit to feeling a little bad for leaving. Her excitement about having met real witches had been almost childlike.
We had told Trudy that leaving might end up being temporary, and ended up asking her for another favor, which she had happily obliged. Her assignment was now to research as much about the town's witchy history as she could—more specifically, the history of the tiny old cemetery on the outskirts of town. Back before we were being hunted by the Organization, still unaware of just how deep the conspiracy went—a time that by now felt like years ago, even though it was really only a matter of days—Mee-maw had shown us a photograph taken of the cemetery back in the early 1900s. The graves had been old, all dating back to the beginning of the 19th century, but the dates hadn’t been as interesting as the fact that many of them had been removed from the plot sometime before 1984.
A coincidence? Maybe. But if this set of escalating misadventures had taught me anything, it was that there wasn’t such a thing as a coincidence around Rocky Knoll. Someone would have wanted those gravestones removed, someone with the resources to get rid of them—and something to hide. Trudy had been gung ho to help us so far—maybe a little too gung ho, truth be told—and although I felt a little bad asking her for all these favors, we weren’t exactly in the position to be turning our noses up at help. In the end, she had seemed a happy camper to have a task, and had gone as far as to wish us “Godspeed!” as we left, with the promise to check in on us via burner phone as soon as she found anything out.
All in all, things seemed to be working in our favor.
With the exception of any magic.
I was now perched behind a table in the back of the bakery, the noxious smells wafting over to me from the kitchen not doing anything to help me keep my focus. If she doesn’t give us all gas poisoning, I’ll consider this a win, I thought rather uncharitably, before letting out a long sigh.
I ran a hand through my hair and stood up, pushing the chair in and letting my head drop between my shoulders as I leaned on it. I felt older than I had in a long time, and although I wanted to chalk that up to a lack of good sleep, I wasn’t so sure. In spite of all these wheels that were now in motion, we still had very little in the way of payoff, aside from a more comfortable place for Mee-maw to rest. Zoe was left to try learning how to use her cauldron with only directions from the internet, and I was stewing in my own juices while Mee-maw squeezed a nap in. Patrick had taken a quick walk around to make sure that any view inside the shop from the street was obscured. Then, he’d slipped off to procure some weapons and call his contact for more information about the Organization meeting, which meant the three of us were stuck here in limbo. Trying, failing, trying, failing on a constant loop.
It was hella-demoralizing.
The sound of footsteps had me straightening up and turning around, only to see Zoe on the approach, brandishing a wooden spoon. There was something positively ungodly stuck to the end of it, and I did my best not to look at it, already knowing what was coming.
“Open up.” She held the spoon out for me like a parent trying to feed an unruly infant.
I groaned. “Zoe…”
“Come on, please.” She waved the spoon in my face. “I think I’m getting close this time, I swear.”
“You’re not going to be happy until you poison me!”
“Well, practice makes perfect, right?” Zoe grinned. “Here comes the choo-choo, chugga chugga…”
I sighed, plugged my nose, and opened my mouth, not wanting to think about whatever it was that Zoe had been working on in there. Better to just choke it down and hope for the best. It tasted like tar, and it was only through sheer force of will that I was able to swallow it without gagging, a shiver going through me as I tried desperately to purge the taste from my mouth.
“Well?” Zoe asked, crossing her arms. “Feel anything?”
“Other than disgust? No?” I held my hands out. “What am I supposed to be feeling?”
Zoe sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s supposed to be a glamour spell,” she replied, “although, I have to say, you’re not looking very enchanted.” Her shoulders sagged. “I’ve been at this for hours, and nothing’s working. That one is supposed to be the simplest one, too.”
I wanted to reassure her, but had zero ammunition for the task. She had spent the whole day making foul-smelling potions using weird combinations of ingredients, each one tasting worse than the last and with no tangible effects. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who was lacking witchy inspiration.
“Look,” I said, hoping to come across as more optimistic than I felt, “you’re probably just not in the right mindset, you know? I know that when I wrote on Maude I always had to be ‘in the zone’. I tried forcing it, and it never worked.” I cast a guilty glance over my shoulder at the typewriter. “It’s still not working.”
I watched my cousin slump into a nearby chair, pulling a face. I could tell she was getting frustrated, the same way I was, and the sensible voice in my mind that was suggesting I give it a rest and come back to it later was only making me all the more irritated.
“I suck at this,” Zoe muttered, staring down at the wooden spoon. She lifted it cautiously to her nose, gave it a tentative sniff, and grimaced. “Jeez, that smells like used motor oil.”
She was spot on, but there was no point in saying so. After a few silent moments, she stood with a sigh.
“Back to the drawing board.”
Afternoon wore into evenin
g, the sky slowly changing color as we continued our fruitless efforts. I was glad to see Mee-maw still napping; getting her to lie down had been like pulling teeth, but she needed it. As much of a toll as this was all taking on my cousin and me, it was that much worse for our old grandmother, and we were going to need to be as close to a hundred percent as possible if we were going to come out the other end.
It wasn’t until the smells drifting from the kitchen suddenly stopped being noxious that I pulled my attention away from the typewriter.
Call me crazy, I thought, sitting up in my chair, but that smells like…
Cinnamon buns. Zoe’s specialty. She must have finally thrown in the towel, and I couldn’t blame her. The smell called to me like a siren’s song, and I stood up and followed it into the kitchen, where Zoe was leaning against the counter, a grim smile tipping her lips.
“Hey,” she said, not looking up.
“Hey,” I echoed, crossing my arms. “Still no luck?”
“Zilch.” She shook her head sadly. “I figured I’d do something I know I’m good at. Sweets make everything better, right?”
“You’re gosh-diddly-darn right, they do,” came Mee-maw’s voice, and we turned to see her standing in the doorway, her eyes bleary and her slate gray mullet tousled. “Are those your cinnamon rolls, Zoe?”
“They sure are,” Zoe replied, moving to check on them. Pulling open the oven only made the smell stronger, and I couldn’t help but cheer up a little. “And I put the kettle on.”
“Well, count me in,” Mee-maw said, grinning.
A few minutes later, we were all seated around the table, a cinnamon roll and a mug of tea in front of each of us. I felt slightly revitalized by the normalcy of it all, almost enough to forget about my struggles with Maude for a moment.
Almost.
“How was your nap, Mee-maw?” Zoe asked through a mouthful of sticky confection.
“It wasn’t a nap. I was just having a good, long thing. Don’t coddle me. I’m fine,” Mee-maw shot back. “Besides, when I nap, I wind up staying awake until all hours.”
“Well, wouldn’t that just be the same as every night, Mee-maw?” I asked her, taking a sip of tea. “Don’t act like you’re not up all night researching the Denver airport conspiracy, or whatever the heck else it is you get up to on those crazy sites you go on.”
“Those crazy sites of mine,” Mee-maw replied, “are going to be what gets us through all this. Just you wait. Forget this magical artifact mumbo-jumbo. I’m older than both of you, and I’m going to save us with the power of technology.”
I laughed. “Whatever you say, Mee-maw.”
“That’s the right answer, kiddo.” She glanced down at her empty plate in surprise, licking a drop of frosting off her finger. “You know what? I want another one of these. Forget the sciatica. I feel like a million bucks.”
“Go for it,” Zoe replied with a chuckle. “They’re on the counter.”
Mee-maw sprang to her feet, but as she did, her elbow shot out and nicked the handle of her teacup. A second later, it was airborne.
I reached out for it in vain as it went careening towards the linoleum floor, only to remain suspended in midair, trembling slightly as if fighting its own battle with gravity.
My eyes went wide, and I stared at my hand in shock. A second later, the cup fell the rest of the way to the ground, shattering and splashing our legs with tepid tea, but we hardly even noticed.
The others were both staring at me like…well, like I’d just done a magic trick.
Zoe clapped her hands together in glee. “You’re back, baby! You’re back!”
Chapter 7
I stared down at the porcelain fragments on the floor, the sound of my heartbeat loud in my ears. Slowly, I looked up, turning from Zoe to Mee-maw. Their eyes were as big as dinner plates.
“That totally happened, right?” I asked. “I mean, I didn’t just imagine that, did I?”
“Unless we’re all just imagining levitating teacups now, then no,” Zoe replied. “It was floating for a second, there.” She met my eyes. “How’d you do it?”
“I have no idea.” I shook my head, tunneling a hand through my hair. “It just happened. I wasn’t even thinking about it. It was like, instinct or something. Crazy,” I breathed, staring down at my hands. A surge of triumph washed over me. The hows or whys didn’t seem to matter at the moment as much as the fact that I had actually done it…and they had witnessed it this time.
“Well, don’t just sit there,” Zoe exclaimed. “Do it again!”
“Yeah,” Mee-maw agreed, pointing at the teapot on the counter. “Do that one next!”
“Guys--” I began, but I couldn’t finish the sentence. A hot flash, as fast as a bullet train and as intense as a high fever, crashed down on me out of nowhere, nearly knocking me off balance as I stared down at the remains of the teacup. My body felt like I’d swallowed a nuclear reactor, and my fingers were throbbing as if someone had just taken a hammer to my hands. The energy was overwhelming, and I sprang to my feet before I was even aware of what I was doing.
“Cricket?” Zoe asked, furrowing her brow. “Are you all right?”
I scurried out of the kitchen, all thoughts of potion brewing, cinnamon rolls, and floating teacups gone from my mind. There was only one thing that mattered right now, and I felt like if I didn’t get to it, I was going to explode. Making a beeline for the table in the connecting room, I rushed to where I’d put Maude. She was still there, exactly as I had left her, but the old machine suddenly felt full of life and promise as I dropped into the chair and stared it down. I realized that I was trembling, although whether from relief or anticipation, I couldn’t say, and it felt like my hands were moving of their own accord as they settled on the old keys, poised to channel whatever it was that was now rushing through me. I could feel my eyes going out of focus, my mind taking on a fuzzy haziness, followed by a bright burst of inspiration, an idea so clear and powerful that it cut through all other thought completely.
I could hear the others murmuring to one another as they followed me to the table, but I wasn’t paying attention to what they were saying as my fingers began to move, racing over the keys as if possessed. A prediction. The old spark. Back, and just as intense as ever. The sentence burst out of me, and only then was I able to bring myself back to the present moment, the trance lifting slightly as I became aware of Mee-maw and Zoe standing behind me, staring at Maude over my shoulders. The hot flash seemed to abate a little now that the words were out, my senses coming back to me a little, and in unison, the three of us looked down at the words I had typed on the page.
Evil thrives in the cover of darkness. Turn on the kitchen light, and the cockroaches will scatter.
“What does that mean?” Zoe asked, putting a hand on my shoulder and turning to look at me.
“I have no idea,” I replied, shaking my head, still shaking from the rush of adrenaline. “It just came out. I guess it’s back,” I said, hardly daring to even believe the words.
“Yay!” Zoe beamed. “So now we just need to figure out what it means, right?”
“Yeah,” I began, but before I knew what was happening, the hot flash was on me again, just as strong and insistent as the last time. My skin was prickling with magic, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up as an electric current coursed through me. I reached out and tore the sheet from the typewriter, setting it aside before winding a new page in, my hands shaking. The others’ excited commentary died down when they realized I wasn’t done, and I once again let the magic take the wheel as another prediction began to pour out of me.
The future is ever changing.
You nearly paid the ultimate price by disregarding the warning and trusting too many. Alas, now more threat lies in trusting too few.
There is safety in numbers. Remember, a rabbit hides, but a pack of wolves walks freely.
Step into your power.
I could feel the feverishness subsiding once again, althoug
h, this time, it seemed to be receding entirely, leaving me to frown as I went over the typed words again and again, trying and failing to make sense of them. This one was longer, but equally cryptic. For a few moments, none of us spoke, and I leaned back in my chair, pursing my lips.
“Well, what on earth does that mean?” Mee-maw demanded, throwing her hands up in frustration. “And why are these so frigging vague? What happened to the first few predictions that were super long and clear?” She put a hand on the table, leaning a broad hip against it. “They used to be different. You’d write, ‘a giraffe is going to break out of a zoo’. Boom, a giraffe breaks out of the zoo. What is this cloak and dagger fortune cookie malarkey?”
“Right?” Zoe said. “Before the ritual, they were a lot more literal. They spelled out exactly what was going to happen. These are different.” She pressed her lips together. “Are you sure it was the same kind of magic, Cricket?”
“I mean, I think so,” I replied, rubbing a hand over my forehead. “It felt the same. There was the hot flash, the surge of inspiration, the feeling like I wasn’t really the one writing it…It was all there.”
“Do you think maybe that’s it, then?” Zoe asked. “Maybe the ritual affected the predictions somehow, even though they didn’t get to finish it?”
“I guess that’s possible.”
Mee-maw was silent, her lips pursed as she read and reread the words on the paper. There was a fresh gleam in her eye, color in her cheeks, and she looked more energized than she had in a long time. The nap must have done her a world of good.
“I don’t think it’s that,” she said, turning to look at us. “Bear with me, here. The earlier predictions were really specific, right? Like the one about my heart, or the shark attack. Those were all for events that were just about to happen. What if these new predictions are more vague because they’re talking about things farther in the future?”
Brewing Trouble Page 6