Broccoli & Broomsticks

by Jennifer Fischetto

  What does that have to do with anything?

  The stranger nods, another all-knowing expression on his smug face. “Oh, that explains it.”

  I place my hands on my hips. “Hey. This isn’t about me.”

  “No, it’s about your boyfriend,” the jerk says, glancing to Gio.

  “He’s my brother.”

  The stranger turns to me with a smile. “Oh yeah?”

  Is he flirting? Now? In the middle of this disaster?

  I flex my fingers, irritated how he has me twisting with every comment. I focus on what matters. “Are you saying Gio's dead for good?”

  I can’t bear the thought. I know how zombies work on TV and in the movies, but this is reality. They aren’t supposed to be real. There has to be a better outcome than what’s portrayed in fiction.

  “Technically, he died the moment of attack. Since he was standing and talking when I arrived, my guess is the zombie who infected him recently left.” The stranger surveys the cemetery, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of the Zombie Sire. Do hunters have infrared vision?

  Tomás nods. “We’re lucky he didn’t eat us next.”

  “But Gio only has a scratch on him, and it could’ve happened from a twig. Zombies tear flesh and eat brains. The guy on Gio ran away from us not toward us.”

  The stranger glances to the ground and appears stumped for a moment. But a breath later, he says, “It takes anywhere from minutes to an hour for the virus to hit the blood, which is why he was still awake, but then the body shuts down and dies.”

  He sounds like Rupert Giles, from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, informative and formal, but without the British accent.

  I stare at Gio's unmoving form. He’s a total pain in the butt, but he’s my brother. I love him. A random memory springs to mind of the two of us sneaking downstairs, last Christmas Eve. We grabbed a pack of Oreos and hid in the hall closet, waiting for Mom and Dad to set all of the presents under the tree. The first time we had done that, we were both little. We thought we’d see Santa and not our parents. That had been a teary time, but for some reason we kept it up, every year. Our folks got wind of it eventually. They’d smirk and ignore us. I’m not sure why we still do it. Habit? Our special sibling tradition? All I know is it’s totally fun munching on Oreos, peeking past the ajar door, and feeling Gio’s warm, sugary breath tickle my cheek as he leans into me for a better view.

  The realization of what’s happening now sinks in. My hands shake, matching my quivering insides. Oh my Goddess. He’s dead.

  “We need to make sure he can’t infect anyone else.” The hunter reaches for his bow.

  I leap in front of him and shove his chest hard. I’m far from a violent person, but this situation is insane. I need to do something rather than stand here talking, and hitting him is more useful than beating the crap out of Gio. “No, you can’t kill him.”

  He stares into my eyes. “He’s already dead. He’s no longer human. You can’t live in denial.” His expression appears confused, but he says each word slow, like I’m dumb or a child.

  “I’m not. I understand what you’re saying, b-but you don’t know me or my family.” My voice squeaks and tears blur my sight again.

  “Yeah, man. You’re not killing him. He’s like a bro to me.” Tomás steps closer to Gio and folds his arms across his chest. Our big, hairy protector.

  The hunter shakes his head then lowers his hand. Something tells me he isn’t normally swayed by the pleas of emotional family members. Why isn’t he shooting then?

  “This is unheard of. What are you going to do when he wakes up? He’ll kill people. Probably you and your parents first.”

  A chill runs down my back and settles at my waist. “I’m a witch, right? I come from a whole family of witches. There has to be a way to fix this, to make him whole again. Some magical cure.”

  A look I can’t interpret flickers across his features, but he pushes it away. “I doubt it,” he whispers then stands straighter. “But maybe you’ll find a way.” His words are flat with a hint of skepticism.

  “I will.” I’ll do whatever I have to in order to save Gio. And to prove this guy wrong.

  He rubs his chin. “You’re going to have to lock him up someplace safe, where no one can stumble upon him.”

  “I guess his bedroom is out of the question,” I say.

  The hunter shoots me a look of disbelief. I half expect his mouth to drop open.

  I smirk and cock a brow. “Kidding. We’ll put him in the garage. It’s a separate structure, not attached to the house. It should be safe.”

  He raises his brows, but before he can comment, Tomás says, “Great idea. No one ever goes in there with all the stuff in it. We can hide him behind the columns of boxes.” He turns and picks up Gio's limp body, hefting my brother up onto his massive shoulder.

  The hunter’s expression turns to confusion.

  “My mom’s sorta a pack rat. She stores all kinds of stuff in the garage,” I say.

  “What’s he?” He juts his chin toward Tomás.

  Yes, something Mr. Arrogance doesn’t know. “Tomás comes from a long line of bunyips. They’re…”

  His eyes widen and a corner of his mouth tugs upward. “Originally from Australia and reside in watering holes. They were once believed to be….”

  “Ha, show-off, you don’t know everything. His grandparents are from Mexico, and they live in a house.” Okay, so it’s near the town’s waterfalls, but that’s beside the point.

  “It’s Malik.” When I don’t respond, he winks and says, “My name. Not Show-off.”

  I start to roll my eyes but refrain. I’m not trying to be mean, but he just pointed a weapon at Gio, and he obviously thinks rather highly of himself. Arrogant jerk.

  Tomás pats him on the back, says, “Thanks for not killing my friend, Malik,” and then walks past us with Gio flopping like a dead fish on his shoulder.

  Chapter Three

  Instead of taking the sidewalk around the cemetery to my house, we cut across the woods, an area I usually don’t mind walking through. Tonight, though, every twig snap and owl hoot leaves me quaking in my Doc Martens. I’m a shaky mess. It’s one thing to worry about the average mugger, but now I have to add zombies to the list.

  Tomás is in the lead, with me right behind him and Malik by my side.

  I’m grateful for Malik's presence, but I’ll never admit it. My only knowledge of hunters is from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The fictional one had super speed and strength. Malik’s body is definitely lean and firm enough for him to have those abilities, but I get the feeling he doesn’t. I don’t have a real reason to feel this way. It’s more instinct.

  I sigh because this isn’t how tonight was supposed to go.

  Malik looks to me. “What are you sensing?”

  It’s just a sound, dude. Relax. He acts like Mom and Dad. They’re always trying to get me to sense what’s around me, to become one with the earth. They say it’ll help me receive my powers, but I’ve spent a gajillion hours meditating and come up blank. So why bother? If I’m powerless, why should I give myself an aneurysm with the Zen thing or studying our grimoire? I’m better off embracing my non-magic and looking to my future as a chef.

  Malik's gaze lingers.

  I shrug. It’s my standard reaction to my parents’ questions as well.

  When we reach the edge of the woods, which isn’t very deep or dense, I step ahead of Tomás and check for any passing cars or people walking their dogs. Our street is not known for being quiet, which is one of the reasons my crazy family fits in, but there are as many normies are there are magicals living on it. Precaution matters.

  With the coast clear, we sprint toward the structure I call home and around the tall, don’t-let-the-neighbors-see-our-business hedges.

  The garage is at the end of the driveway, at the back corner of our lot. It’s really a mini house without plumbing. There’s a front door and a couple of windows but no automatic door. You couldn’t park a car
in there unless you folded it and walked it inside.

  We pass Leo’s cherry red Miata, parked behind Mom’s black Saturn and Dad’s dark blue Honda.

  “Full house,” Malik whispers.

  We cross the yard, keeping to the shadows. It’s better everyone’s home. It’ll make telling them easier. Leo is the eldest and good at calming Mom, and my sister, Cari, and Dad are close. That’s not to say our parents have favorites. At least I don’t think they do, but I’m the fourth kid. By the time I came along, the others had already established a bond with them.

  With an unsteady hand, I grab the key hidden above the left window frame. If anyone catches us… Ugh, I can’t think about it. I’d like to give them a chance to process it before seeing Gio.

  We hurry inside the dark, cold space and I shut the door, staring at the back of my house. All the downstairs lights are on. I can make out Mom’s head in the kitchen. She’s standing in front of the sink, probably washing dishes.

  I turn to see Tomás lowering Gio on the concrete floor in the back, beside a mountain of boxes. He faces us. “I’ll stay with him tonight.”

  “It’s freezing in here,” I say, but immediately remember there’s no changing Tomás’ mind. Ever. Plus, the bond he and Gio share won’t break from a little thing like zombieism or pneumonia. “I’ll sneak out some blankets, food and a sleeping bag as soon as everyone’s in bed. Will you be alright until then?”

  Tomás nods, a big goofy grin on his grizzly face.

  “I’ll come back with the chains later or first thing in the morning,” Malik says.

  “The what?” My voice cracks.

  He cocks his head and gives me that look I already know means, are you dumb? “He can’t be left unbound.”

  I bite my lower lip and try not to well up again.

  Malik softens his voice. “When he wakes up, he won’t be Gio anymore. He’ll be a monster, completely changed.”

  Even though I know he’s right, part of me refuses to believe it. “Whatever. I’ll tell my parents tonight and we’ll find a cure.”

  Malik looks away and opens the door. “See you later.”

  I give a quick glance to Tomás, who’s already settling down beside Gio, and run out after Malik. “Wait. Why are you here? Are you from Nocturne Falls?”

  I may not know about hunters, but I’ve never seen him in school before. Maybe he’s older and already graduated.

  His steps slow down but he doesn’t stop walking. “None of it matters now.” He’s at the end of the driveway when Dad pokes his head out the back sliding doors.

  “Aria, is that you? Where’s your brother?”

  My stomach sinks. “He’s with Tomás.” At least I’m not lying.

  “Well, come inside. Your sister wants to talk with us.”

  I glance at Malik, but he’s already turned onto the sidewalk, and I head up the deck steps and into the house’s warmth. It’s March and mild, but there’s enough of a chill in the night air that the heat feels wonderful.

  “What’s the big deal?” I ask. Since when does Cari call family meetings?

  The kitchen is empty and voices sound from the front of the house.

  Dad’s smile is big and proud. “Maybe she’s decided to go to medical school like Leo.”

  Cari's never been a decisive girl, and for the past year she’s toyed with going on to get her Master’s degree in psychology or entering medical school to become a psychiatrist. Leo’s studying to be a cardiologist. Dad would be thrilled to have two doctors in the family.

  “Do I have time to run to the bathroom?” My bladder is demanding I give it my full attention. I’ve had to go for the past hour. Any other night I would’ve considered squatting in the woods. Other nights weren’t life threatening and didn’t involve sexy hunters though. Yeah, I hate admitting it, but I’m not blind.

  “Hurry.” Dad chuckles and walks into the living room.

  I finish in the half bath off the kitchen, my body relieved but my mind not. I’ll let Cari tell us her news. Then I’ll spring the truth about Gio on them. Quick like ripping off a Band-Aid.

  When I reach the living room, Mom’s sitting in a wing chair, Dad and Nana are on the couch and Leo is on the loveseat. He pats the spot beside him and ruffles the top of my hair when I take it.

  Darn brothers.

  Cari sits in the chair near Mom, wringing her fingers and looking way too green to be sharing happy future plans. She stands on wobbly legs and swallows hard. “So, um…I wan-want to…”

  Oh dear Goddess, Cari. Spit it out. My news is more pressing than being able to write prescriptions or not.

  “Okay, so, see…” She inhales sharply and squeezes her eyes shut. “I’m dropping out of college because I’m pregnant.”

  Chapter Four

  Oh shoot.

  Everything seems to slow down and I’m able to catch each person’s reaction to Cari's news. Leo lowers his head and wears his hand like a beefy cap. Disappointment oozes from his slumped posture. As the oldest child, he feels responsible for each of us, which I don’t understand.

  Dad presses his eyes shut and looks like he’s napping. No muscles twitch, but he can’t be relaxed. This is everything he doesn’t want.

  Nana chortles, low and soft. It sounds like she’s happy or snickering, but it has to be some sort of old lady disbelief. She glances from Cari to Dad and back so fast, her eyes appear to be dancing in her head. Sometimes I wonder if the real reason she moved in with us last month is dementia and not old age.

  I look to Cari next, shocked by her words. My thoughts run from, my sister is pregnant, to, I’m going to be an aunt, to, is she stupid? And before I have time to process them further, time finds its groove again.

  Mom jumps from her chair and screams, “Are you crazy?” She turns to Dad, almost doing a three-hundred-and-sixty head spin, ala Linda Blair from The Exorcist. “Sal, please tell me it’s April first and this is a joke, because my baby cannot be having a baby.”

  The potted geranium on the fireplace mantel leaps into midair, rotates twice and then falls to the floor, smashing into several huge chunks. Dirt spills onto the light gray carpet.

  “Oh crap,” Leo whispers. “She’s going to blow.”

  Mom’s witchy power is earth. When she found out Nana was kicked out of her apartment for accidentally sending bolts of lightning through the building, a 4.0 earthquake shook our house.

  Snapping sounds out front. I flinch. This won’t be good. Car alarms beep in a rhythmic fury while barking erupts down the street. Animals aren’t fond of Mom. Persia, our cat, won’t go near her, even when Mom’s serving the fancy cat food.

  Leo springs to his feet, eyes wide and scared. “I hope nothing hits my car,” he says, running to the door. As he swings it open, a loud crash makes him and everything jump.

  “Mother,” he shouts and clenches his hands.

  Uh-oh.

  Smoke smolders around his fists and soon flames ignite. He pushes open the screen, leaving a burnt smudge on the metal. “I just finished paying it off.”

  His shouts become distant, and the crackling of fire is unmistakable. Even as a full-time student, he’s worked to have the coolest ride at school. Mom says it’s some male ego thing.

  Nana is still chortling on the sofa. Dad’s Buddha stance gets kinda freaky. He parts his lips and his deep breathing turns into a deafening whoosh.

  Oh no, another wind tunnel.

  We all must notice it at the same time because I almost trip on Nana while racing outside. The Japanese maple is ripped from the ground, turned on its side, and in flames. Its lopsided branches lie in the driver’s seat of Leo's Miata. The convertible’s lowered roof is catching on fire, and the odor of burnt rubber suffocates the air.

  Darn, I love that tree.

  Nana hobbles over and stares at the roots still anchored to the ground.

  “Ma, don’t get too close. You’ll get burned,” Mom shouts above the commotion.

  Nana doesn’t hear or pr
etends not to. An advantage of being old, I guess. Lucky woman. Mom rarely lets us get away with not listening.

  Cari steps closer to Leo, but not that close. We’re all too aware how scary his fire power is, especially her. She still has to pencil in her eyebrows every morning. “I’m sorry about your car.”

  He ignores her but Mom doesn’t. “And you should be. What were you thinking? We had the talk. I know we did because I remember how painful it was. Did I not teach you no hood, no entrance?”

  “Mom,” I yell. Gross. I mean, yeah, some day I plan to be in a loving relationship with Mr. Awesome, but sex between my sister and who-knows-who is super gross. Wait, who is Cari’s baby daddy? As far as I know, she’s not dating anyone.

  The roots of the tree start dancing. Nana jumps back a step and extends her right arm to them. Lightning leaps from her fingertips, like a giant sword. She battles the roots as an experienced ninja, dressed in a floral housedress, a string of aquamarine pearls and fuzzy blue slippers—whooping and hollering the whole time.

  I wonder who will win.

  Mom points to her mother-in-law. “See what you’ve done? Now all the neighbors will think we’re crazy.”

  And they don’t already?

  Cari's bottom lip quivers.

  Something hits the side window, and I turn to see books, an afghan and a very pissed off Persia flying in circles around the living room.

  Cari starts whimpering.

  Leo looks up. “Not now, Cari. My top is down.”

  Um, that’s the least of his problems. “Well, at least the fire will go out,” I say, trying to find the positive.

  Tears stream down Cari's cheeks, and the cloudless sky suddenly pours buckets of rain.

  We’re drenched in a few seconds, and I can’t decide if I’d rather continue getting wet or deal with getting hit in the head from flying knickknacks inside.

  “See, I’m not missing much by being ordinary,” I whisper to myself. The words lodge in my throat though. I glance at the garage and think about Gio. If this is my family’s reaction to an unplanned pregnancy, how will they handle the news that their youngest son is a zombie?