Wisteria Wyverns (Wisteria Witches Mysteries Book 5)

by Angela Pepper

  “I have a curious nature.” She turned back to the hovering wyvern. It suddenly dropped out of sight.

  We both stepped closer to the window and peered down.

  The wyvern popped up again, just as suddenly. This time it had a brown-wrapped package clutched in its talons. Its long tail swished from side to side before curling forward and tapping three times on the window.

  I grinned at my mother. “Look, Ma! It followed me home. Can I keep it?”

  She took a few steps back, eyeballing the wyvern warily. “That package is addressed to you. Is this one of Zinnia’s tricks?”

  The package did have my name on it. Charlize had warned me she’d be sending something by special delivery. A delivery didn’t get much more special than wyvern delivery.

  “I think I know this wyvern,” I said, reaching for the window clasp. “His name is Ribbons, and he works for the DWM.”

  “As a salaried employee?”

  I had to laugh. My mother’s knack for oddly timed questions had not changed at all.

  “You can ask him the details of his employment yourself,” I said.

  I opened the window wide. Night air rushed in with the scent of the jasmine and roses from the garden below.

  The wyvern tossed the package at me. Somehow I’d known he was going to do so, and I caught the bundle easily—no magic required.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Are you Ribbons?” It seemed like the polite thing to do, to ask his name, even though I was certain he was the same wyvern I’d met briefly via Charlize’s ceiling projection.

  Still hovering, but closer to the open window and bathed in the light from the room, the wyvern flicked out his long, purple tongue and wiped it over one black eye and then the other. Then he blasted two streams of red-orange fire from his nostrils. The fire streamed up and looped around itself like twin ribbons.

  “Ribbons it is,” I said. “And now I see how he earned his name.”

  A psychic wave of positivity came from the wyvern. He set down on the windowsill. His talons squeaked against the rough-hewn stone of the window ledge. Under his force, the stone gave way like powder, leaving smooth grooves. The wyvern was barely the size of an owl, yet its raw power was sobering. If the effects of the wine and the rum and Coke hadn’t completely worn off already, they certainly did now.

  My mother whispered, out of the corner of her mouth, “How much money should I tip it?”

  “How much money do you have on you?”

  “It’s a serious question. I don’t know how much is customary for a person to tip a small dragon.”

  Ribbons coughed out another plume of orange flame. My mind filled with laughter that was not my own. Was he projecting his own amusement into my mind? One of the black eyes winked. He was.

  My mother had gotten her purse and was rummaging around inside it. “How about twenty?”

  Ribbons sent me another wave of positivity. Having my mind flooded with his messages was not unpleasant. I felt like how I imagined a dog would feel when being praised.

  “You can’t go wrong with a twenty-dollar tip,” I said to my mother.

  She folded the bill twice and held it out gingerly. The wyvern launched itself into the room, snapped the bill from my mother’s fingers, did one circle of the perimeter, and returned to the windowsill before my mother had even finished her shriek.

  “He says thank you,” I reported. The twenty-dollar bill was nowhere in sight. Either the wyvern had eaten it or he had pockets hidden within his scales.

  Pockets, he answered in my mind.

  “Oh,” I said. “That’s handy.”

  Tell your lady friend I’m not a dragon. They have four legs and wyverns have two.

  “That’s no lady,” I said. “That’s my mother.”

  She looked from the wyvern to me and back again. “What’s going on?”

  “Ribbons wants you to know he’s a wyvern. Not a dragon. Wyverns have two legs and two wings, whereas dragons have four legs plus wings.”

  Ribbons stretched out his wings and showed the handlike claws—or was it clawlike hands?—that he had at the tops of his wings.

  I continued. “A wyvern is actually more realistic than a dragon, since there aren’t any birds or mammals or amphibians on earth with four legs plus wings. All flying or gliding animals convert two of their four limbs to wings.”

  Nicely done, librarian.

  “Thank you.”

  You’re smarter than you look.

  “Hey!”

  Ribbons blew out another orange plume of fire, which looped into the shape of a heart. Then he leaned backward into the darkness and fell away like Batman.

  Chapter 14

  We both stared at the night sky outside the window. Sweet fragrance from the night-blooming jasmine and roses drifted up, along with the tangy scent of the ocean. In the silence following the wyvern’s exit, I noticed the sound of waves crashing on the rocks in the distance. There really were worse places to be imprisoned. The castle was idyllic, plus it had its own fire-breathing wyvern. What more could you want?

  My mother asked me, “Will he be coming back?”

  “How should I know?”

  “Don’t you have a telepathic link with the creature? I heard you talking to him.”

  “It might have been telepathy. Or my overactive imagination.”

  “What did it feel like? Describe it to me.”

  “It felt like he was beaming words into my head. Like I was listening to headphones that were really deep in my ears, lodged in my brain.”

  She grimaced. “Ew.”

  “But not lodged in my brain in a bad way,” I said. “Mostly, it was pleasant.”

  “You did seem to enjoy the interaction with the creature.”

  “It’s a good thing I’m no stranger to having voices in my head. A regular person might have freaked out.”

  She nodded. “I have a telepathic connection with my trained jays, except they only have the intellect of birds, so it’s more of a one-way conversation.”

  “Ribbons is smart, I think. And I detected a hint of sarcasm.”

  “Then you two should get along very well. He can be your new BFF.”

  “I wish!” I tucked the package from Charlize under my armpit and used both hands to trace the talon scratches on the ledge of the window. I’d never imagined having a wyvern for a friend, but now I could see the appeal. I sent a mental message out into the darkness: Ribbons, you’re welcome to come back and visit any time. I waited until I sensed a distant ping. The message had been received. In reply, he sent back a nonverbal wave of mild disinterest.

  “He’s not coming back,” I reported back to my mother. “We’re probably boring compared to hanging out with other wyverns.”

  “Assuming there are any,” she said. “They’re supposed to be extinct. He might be the last of his kind.”

  “Oh?” I walked back over to the sofa, sat down, and began unwrapping the package. “What else do you know about wyverns?”

  She joined me, sitting on the chair across from me. “Just that they’re extinct, which is, apparently, not the case.”

  “Kinda makes you wonder,” I said. “What else is out there in the big world that we don’t know about?”

  Both of us glanced over at the open window.

  “The world would be afraid of us if they knew,” she said. “And we’re perfectly harmless.”

  “Speak for yourself.” I chuckled as I turned my attention to the special delivery.

  The package was wrapped in brown paper, fastened with twine. The knot was tight, and after a minute of frustrated tugging, I used my vegetable-slicing spell to cut through the twine. The spell wasn’t optimized for anything but vegetables, so I had to run it three times to get through. If my mother hadn’t been watching so closely and pursing her lips so tightly, it might have only taken two tries.

  I unrolled the paper to find a hastily scrawled note from Charlize: I raided Bugsy to make you an overnight bag.


  My mother asked, “Who’s Bugsy?”

  I set the note aside and gave her a look of surprise. Not only had she deciphered Charlize’s messy handwriting, but she’d done so from across the coffee table, in dim light.

  “Mom! You have such good eyesight for a zombie.”

  “Don’t make me bite you,” she said. “Who or what is Bugsy?”

  “Charlize’s car. It’s a Volkswagen Beetle.”

  “What is with you people naming your vehicles? What is the point? Are Bugsy and Foxy Pumpkin going to meet up for playdates?”

  “You’re just jealous because your car doesn’t have a cool name. What are you driving these days, anyways?”

  “I prefer not to drive,” she said. “Cars are easy, but acquiring insurance is difficult when you’re legally deceased.”

  “So, you’re living totally off the grid, huh? My mother the hippie.”

  She waved a hand. “The logistics of my day-to-day affairs are all very dull, I assure you. What’s in the overnight bag?” She stared at the bundle on my lap.

  I finished unwrapping the package. The contents were strangely mundane, considering they had been flown in by wyvern. There was a travel-sized toothbrush, still new in its wrapper, along with various toiletries, as well as new socks and underwear, a cute pair of summer shorts, white lace-up shoes, and two T-shirts. One T-shirt was plain blue, and the other was bright white with a cartoon drawing of takeout coffee along with the phrase, Caution: Contents May Be Hot!

  My mother nodded with approval at the contents.

  “How thoughtful,” she said. “This Charlize girl is a good friend. I do hope you’ll hold onto this one.”

  “Hold onto her?”

  “Just that you won’t discard her the way you usually do.”

  I crossed my arms. “What are you talking about? I don’t discard people.”

  “Well, you don’t exactly keep them around, do you?”

  “Excuse me? Listen, I was there, at your funeral, and let’s just say there was no shortage of seating.”

  She took in air sharply. The shock of what I’d said registered on her face for an instant before she forced a smile. “And there’s that temper of yours,” she said. “Between your black-and-white thinking plus that chip on your shoulder, it’s no wonder you drifted away from your old school friends.”

  I snorted. “Uh, I think it was something else. Who needs to get barfed on by partying teenagers when you have your own baby? My lifestyle didn’t allow a lot of socializing with people my age.”

  “You could have gotten a babysitter.”

  “Babysitters cost money.”

  “Not all of them.”

  “Do you mean you?”

  “You could have at least asked.”

  I opened my mouth then closed it. Her version of our tumultuous history was always so different from mine. I wanted to set her straight, yet what would be the point? There was nothing to be gained by opening up old wounds.

  She said, “Hannah Berber would have babysat for you. You remember her, don’t you? The young mother who lived down the street. She was only about nineteen when she had that lovely baby.”

  “Hannah Berber was married. Her situation was completely different from mine. Plus…”

  “What?”

  I frowned. “I can’t remember, but I know she did something unforgivable. That’s why we stopped talking.”

  “Something unforgivable that you can’t even remember?”

  “That’s how memories work, Mom. I can’t just flip through my head like it’s a book and find the chapter where Hannah Berber did whatever it was she did. Sometimes all you remember is how angry someone makes you. How badly you wanted to smother them with a pillow just to make the talking stop.”

  She looked past me at the window. “Hannah Berber was a nice young woman,” she said calmly. “That’s all.”

  “Then it must have been me who did the unforgivable thing,” I said. “Since Hannah Berber was so perfect.”

  “I never said she was perfect. She used to hang her underwear on a clothesline in the front yard where everyone could see.”

  “See? I told you she was a monster.” I shook my head and made a tsk-tsk sound. “Public display of underwear. Unforgivable.”

  There was a beeping sound coming from outside the open window that interrupted our conversation. I got up from the couch, walked over to the window, and leaned out. Down below in the parking lot was the source of the beeping noise. It was the coroner’s van backing up into a parking spot near the entrance. The vehicle was a Dodge Sprinter, all white except for a blue horizontal stripe on the rear and the county coroner insignia on the front doors. The coroner insignia on the doors was a magnetic decal that could be removed as needed for privacy. Here at the castle, everyone knew why we’d been detained, so there was no need for stealth.

  My mother joined me at the window, breathing on the back of my neck. She must have brushed her teeth already, during her time in the bathroom. Her breath was fresh and minty, unlike mine, which was extra garlicky from eating my seafood pasta dinner as well as her garlic bread.

  “They’ll be taking the body away tonight,” she said. “It’s a shame I wasn’t thinking straight when we were in the room with her. We could have taken a lock of her hair.”

  “As some grisly souvenir?”

  “No, silly. To make an avatar. I guess you’d call it a voodoo doll.”

  I turned to look at her. “Zinnia and I summoned some ghost dogs using a bone. Are you talking about something like that?”

  “Yes. I haven’t done it myself, but I believe there’s a spell that can help with spirits who won’t move on.”

  “Like an exorcism?”

  “No, nothing like that. Just a simple ritual to get a spirit out of a person.”

  “Mom, that’s literally the dictionary definition of an exorcism.”

  “Oh.” She leaned out the window and looked down. “Too late, anyway. Unless you have a contact with the coroner’s office?”

  “It’s never too late.” I climbed up onto the windowsill. There was a ripping sound, and the frayed seat of my jeans suddenly got air conditioning vents. “This is exactly why superheroes wear tights,” I said.

  “What on earth are you doing?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” I peered down at the shadowy parking lot and lush gardens. My mother’s suite was on the third floor, but we were so high up. All the rooms had high ceilings, so the drop was closer to five stories. The van had finished parking, and now two people were rolling out a squeaky gurney with a zippered body bag. They must have deemed the body too fragile to transport under a sheet. I noted that, for a librarian, I certainly knew a lot about crime scene protocols. This trivia hadn’t come from any of my ghosts. Since I’d gotten involved in solving the occasional murder, I’d been paying closer attention to procedural dramas on TV.

  “Zara, be careful,” my mother said.

  I chuckled under my breath. If I had a dollar for every time I’d heard my mother utter that phrase, I’d be able to buy my own castle. I was reminded of one time in particular, when she’d said it to me through her blue jay. I’d been about to heal an injured red fox, but she’d thrown me off. I wasn’t going to let her hold me back this time.

  “Just calm down and watch me,” I said.

  “Do what? You told me yourself, you don’t know how to fly.”

  “Watch me anyway. It’s going to be pretty cool. And if not, watch where I land so you can direct those paramedics to my crumpled body.”

  She started to voice her objections, but I didn’t stick around.

  I’d already cast the spell to lighten my body. Down I went.

  Now, those of you who are no strangers to physics will know that a pebble falls just as quickly as a boulder. It’s Newton’s Second Law of Motion. Even as an ultralightweight witch, I fell quickly. I’d planned to soften my landing with a last-second levitation boost, but my timing wasn’t perfect. I landed in an awkward heap
and tumbled, the holes in my jeans ripping further. Both shoes flew off into the darkness.

  I stood up. Nothing broken. Better yet, nobody seemed to have noticed.

  Craning my neck, I waved up at the silhouette of my mother on the third floor. She waved back, shaking her head. I was glad for the distance between us, so she couldn’t see my blood gushing from where the thorny rose bushes had fought my rude intrusion. I used magic to push the thorny stems away as I extricated myself. The multiple cuts were already healing, but my body’s powers didn’t extend to my beat-up T-shirt and jeans.

  Since I didn’t have an invisibility cloak—thanks to them not existing, as far as I knew—I cast a spell to disguise myself as a bush. My coloring and leaf shape didn’t exactly match the rose bushes, but it was close enough to hide me when combined with the cover of night.

  Now, how would I get access to Josephine’s body? The two uniformed workers from the coroner’s office were taking their time rolling the gurney toward the van. How would I get rid of them? I could attract their attention elsewhere by using magic to cause a commotion, but that wouldn’t give me much time, and it might attract Bentley. I could take the direct approach and try to charm my way into inspecting the body. But that would be challenging, since I’d never used my bluffing spell on more than one person at a time. Finally, I spotted something on one of the men, and a plan came together instantly.

  Using my telekinesis, I pulled at the cigarette carton inside the shorter man’s pocket, careful to sync it up with his movements. The carton finally “jiggled” loose and dropped out. As the carton hit the concrete, I popped open the lid and plucked out two cigarettes.

  They’d just opened the back doors of the van when it happened. Now both of them stopped and stared down at the two cigarettes on the ground.

  “It’s a sign,” one of them said.

  “Sure is,” said the other. “Time for a much-needed break. Right after we get loaded up.”

  They hoisted the gurney, collapsed the wheel mechanism, and slid the body into the van. They closed the van doors, locked them, and then picked up the cigarettes. After checking that the doors of the van were locked, they both walked off, puffing smoke into the night air.