Phantom Quartz

by Barbra Annino

  “And why I have the sudden urge to dress like a Victoria’s Secret model.” I patted her hand. “And perhaps why I see pictures of what Thor wants for dinner.” I thought a moment. “Although that may be the three of you combined. Or something else entirely.”

  “So,” Birdie said, “It seems you now have my healing abilities, Fiona’s gift for matchmaking and animals, Lolly’s talent for vibrational readings, as well as your own power.”

  “It would appear that way, yes.”

  “Interesting,” Birdie said. She wandered over to the window and gazed into the dark night for a while.

  We all sat there with our thoughts until Birdie spun around. She clapped her hands together. “Hot damn! There’s no stopping you now, Seeker of Justice.”

  I scrambled out of the chair. “Oh no, no, no. It’s too much, Birdie. You’re taking your gifts back as soon as I can figure out how to return them.” I whirled toward the table. “You too, Lolly, Fiona. It’s too much. It’ll break me.”

  “Nonsense,” Birdie said. “Besides, however will you give it back?”

  My mother watched me carefully as I stuck my hand inside the neck of my shirt. “The same way I acquired it. With the Seeker’s locket.”

  Except...it was gone.

  Chapter 16

  “Well that’s not good.” I felt sick. My amulet, my badge, ripped from me. By whom? And why? The previous Seeker had told me the locket could only be used by the Seeker herself. To anyone else, it was mere jewelry. Unless it did something that none of us knew it could do. Did it have power beyond being a tool for the Seeker? Could it be enchanted to bond to another? Or was there some other reason someone would want it?

  “How could you let this happen?” Birdie said.

  A great deal of shouting took place over the next five minutes. A lot of finger pointing, blaming, and general discord among the five of us. That is, until a hand slammed down on the table and the most reasonable woman in the room put an end to it. I’d like to say that woman was me, but it wasn’t. It was my mother.

  “Enough of this! It does us no good to turn on each other. What we need to do now is focus on the who.” She rubbed her temple. “Birdie, you’ll need to call Tallulah first thing in the morning. Feel her out, find out what she knows. If she is behind this, then we request a council meeting. If she isn’t, she may be able to lead us to the real shifter. Either way, the council needs to be alerted of the crime.”

  Birdie sighed. “All right, but I can’t imagine why Tabby would risk everything to pull such a stunt. She was there when the locket was passed from her mother to Stacy. She appeared to hold no ill will.”

  “Birdie, does the amulet do anything special I wasn’t informed about? Can it conform to another?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “How should I know?”

  I watched as Birdie sat back in her chair, seeming uninterested in this entire conversation. As if she were a student attending a mandatory lecture who’d rather be playing beer pong. I felt myself growing annoyed with her attitude.

  Then the most terrifying thought occurred to me. Not only had I acquired their traits, but it was becoming increasingly clear that they had been infused with facets mine. Even those I had shed months ago. Birdie seemed to be acting like the old Stacy—the reluctant witch. And that was not a quality we needed right now. It had to be all hands in the cauldron. Or we were completely screwed.

  My mother eyed her mother. “I lived in that castle for fifteen years, Birdie. Believe me, Tabby is about as trustworthy as a leprechaun.”

  “Wait—those are real?” I asked.

  My mother ignored me and addressed Lolly next. “Lolly, you take care of the guests. Hang around them as much as you can. Take notes, eavesdrop, invite them into the kitchen if you have to. Just try not to let them out of your sight too much.” Lolly was leaning forward, eager to participate. As she scribbled some notes on a pad, her eyes were focused, her jaw sharp, ready for action. Without a drop of booze nearby.

  Oh good goddess, please tell me I won’t need to be drunk through all of this, I prayed.

  Mom said, “Fiona, you do what you do best. Flirt. Maybe one of the Italians brought a date who’s unfamiliar to the family. The shifter could be anyone, and with the kind of magic she has, she could easily have blended in.”

  I mentioned Mario’s new girlfriend Carmella.

  “Good. Start with them,” Mom said.

  Fiona made a face. She had discarded her high heels and her stockings were balled on the floor. “Can’t I just invite them over for a football game and ply them with free booze?”

  Mom shot a glare at me and I made a ‘what are you going to do’ gesture. She blew out a sigh. “I suppose that will work too.”

  “Cool.” Fiona propped her feet on the table.

  My mother looked at me, an agenda on her face. In a voice that carried me all the way back to when I was thirteen and had cast a spell that invited dozens of forest creatures into our home to help me clean my room, she said, “Are you going to act like the Seeker, or are you just going to stand there with a wand up your bum?”

  “Right. Sorry.” I grabbed the marker and approached the white board again, jotting down everyone’s action items. “I’ll get a list from Angelica of everyone who was invited to Cinnamon’s shower. I’ll tell her it’s for writing thank-you notes. I’ll also ask her to indicate the guests who had planned to come to dinner tonight. They’ll be back tomorrow night, so I’ll say I need it so Birdie can confirm the head count.”

  “I have to cook tomorrow night?” Birdie complained.

  “I’ll do it,” Fiona said. “I’ll cook and you can do the flirt thing.”

  Mom said, “No switching. You’ll all do the tasks I assigned.”

  “Yeah.” I did a fist pump.

  Mom raised her brows at me. “You really should be leading this posse, you know.”

  She was right, but I was not used to ordering the Geraghty Girls around. Not that I never fantasized about it. Just never had the opportunity. Also, I didn’t want my eyebrows to fall out of my head. Another trick that was pulled on Gramps. No one ever owned up to it, although I suspected Fiona because he had set her up on a blind date with an insurance salesman with a fetish for kitchen utensils.

  I curved around the table and faced them all, standing as tall as I could. I slid the athame from my left boot and held it up.

  “Do you know what this symbolizes?” I asked.

  Birdie said, “You like knives?”

  “You’re not happy to see us, you just have a blade in your boot?” said Fiona, a smirk on her face.

  Lolly added, “You’re too chicken to carry a gun?”

  Mom tugged my elbow and pulled me backwards. In a harsh whisper, she said, “I’m beginning to understand what’s going on here. Were you really that bad?”

  I responded from the corner of my mouth. “Apparently. But I’m much better now.”

  I pointed the athame at each of them. “Wrong, wrong, and wrong.” I plunged the blade into the center of the table. The Geraghty Girls jumped.

  “It means that I am the Seeker of Justice and I have pledged an oath to my family, my ancestors, the Council and Danu herself to protect the treasures that have been bestowed upon us.” I began pacing again. “It means I have vowed to uphold the covenants designed by the ancient Druids and our own lawmakers and to see that those who break them will be brought to justice. It means that our enemies are everywhere and that we must always be diligent.” I stopped moving and planted my hands on the table, regarded each of them. “It means that all that you have taught me, all that you have instilled in me is a part of my soul now. Your sacrifices-” I stole a look at my mother - “are appreciated.” I pulled the blade from the table, running my hands along its shiny surface. My voice was lower as I spoke these next words. “Most importantly, it means that I am proud to come from a long line of amazing women. I’m proud to be a Geraghty.” I lifted my head. “Now. Let’s find the son of a bitch who
stole my birthright and show her what it means to mess with the Seeker.”

  Behind me, my mother squeezed my shoulder. Birdie, Lolly, and Fiona exchanged glances.

  Birdie said, “A bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

  “Really, Stacy, you could have just told us all that. You didn’t need to slice up the table,” Fiona said.

  Lolly said, “I think it would have been better if you were wearing a costume. We could have pretended we were watching Iron Man.”

  I turned to my mother and said, “This is not going to be easy.”

  Then another thought occurred to me. I bit my lower lip, turning the hunch over in my mind.

  “What is it?” Mom asked.

  “What if whoever took it isn’t after the locket at all?”

  “What do you mean? He or she went to great lengths to steal it from you.”

  The theory was relatively weak, but it nagged at me and I had learned to trust my instincts long ago. “What I mean is, maybe the who isn’t the most important thing. Maybe it’s the why that matters.”

  She considered this a moment. “Well then what’s the why?”

  I met her eyes. “Maybe the locket isn’t what the shifter wants at all.”

  “What else could it be?”

  Behind me, Fiona said, “Are we done here? I want to go watch TV.”

  Birdie said, “Yeah and I’m starving.”

  “Let’s go bowling,” Lolly said.

  Mom tilted her head and rubbed her temples. “Just go.”

  There was a shuffling of chairs as Birdie and the aunts departed. I looked at my mother. “Maybe it’s me.”

  Chapter 17

  Thor was sleeping on the couch with Gramps, the dog’s long legs dangling over the edge, huge head resting on the ottoman in front of him. They were both snoring loudly and looked peaceful, so I opted not to disturb them. I grabbed two slices of pizza from the coffee table, wove through the hallway and out the back door. It was nine o’clock, and I was exhausted and starving. I scarfed down both slices of Giorgio’s double pepperoni before I even stepped foot onto the front porch of my cottage.

  I bent to punch in the code on the keypad, but there was no need. The door was ajar. I felt a presence—an uninvited guest.

  “Oh, come on!” I mouthed silently to the sky.

  Seriously, would this day never end?

  I took a few deep breaths and jogged in place to energize my body. The pepperoni burned in my throat.

  Athame at the ready, I edged the door open a bit more with my foot. I tried to collect every inch of power I had and set my senses to work. There was no sound, not even the lull of the furnace, which I found odd. There was the faint scent of the cleaning products I used—basil, lemon verbena—but that was all. I focused on thoughts, vibrations, energy, but received nothing, as if whoever was in there had no aura. I crept inside.

  The person standing in my kitchen was tall. Six feet, maybe more. Slender too. That was all I could make out from the sliver of light that peeked through the tiny window in my kitchen.

  Was it the shifter?

  Inching closer, I navigated through my living room closer to my sword. It was the only thing I had any telekinetic power over. Charged by the goddesses, it was a strong, regal weapon that had been with me many years. The sword was a gift from Birdie and I had used it in many spells, but never in battle.

  That was about to change.

  I stretched my left hand out, called to it, and in a blink, the three muses sword sailed straight into my palm. I tucked the athame in the back of my belt and gripped the sword, crouched in a fighter’s stance.

  I said, “I’ve had a helluva day, so whoever you are, I suggest you show yourself.”

  There was a tap, tap, tap. Down and to the left of the intruder.

  My gaze trained on the noise and as my eyes found focus through the darkness, I honed in on the source of the tapping.

  A sword. Longer, sharper, thicker than mine.

  Just what I needed. Why couldn’t I go up against a regular psycho with a chainsaw like normal people?

  I cleared my throat. “Last chance before I slice you in two.”

  The pointy blade lifted from the floor and every sparring match I had ever participated in flashed through my mind.

  But the tip of the shaft wasn’t aimed at me. Instead, it veered left and lifted the light switch on the wall, illuminating the person standing before my counter.

  Long, curly black hair. Leather pants and matching jacket that Lolly would admire. Wedge boots.

  “Stacy Justice, is that any way to greet an old friend?” The voice had an air of familiarity to it, but I couldn’t place it.

  She turned to face me, took a long pull off a red Gatorade and smiled.

  I gasped. “It’s you.”

  “Well of course it’s me, who else would I be?”

  I had met her while vacationing in Las Vegas with Chance a while back. If she had told me her name, I couldn’t place it.

  She tapped the blade again and said, “Indigo, say hello to Stacy Justice.”

  What appeared to be a tiny purple dragon perched on the pommel of her sword. It opened its eyes, yawned out a puff of smoke, and promptly went back to sleep.

  The raven-haired woman looked at her dragon and sighed. “These trips to the outer realm can be so taxing on her. She’s usually quite peppy.”

  “So you’re...” My voice trailed off, because I wasn’t sure how to ask the question.

  She smiled again. “Tisiphone. Avenger of Murder. Fury of the Underworld, and expert poker player.” She bowed. “At your service.”

  “At my service?” I patted my breastbone.

  Tisiphone said, “Well no, of course not. That would be ridiculous. It’s a figure of speech.” She curled her lip. “I think. I’m afraid I’ve developed a flair for the dramatic ever since my partner installed a satellite. He thinks I should learn to better communicate with mortals, so he’s trying to teach me through film, er, movies.”

  “Well, I think you’re doing great.”

  “Thank you, Stacy Justice.” Her eyes trailed to the sword in my hand. She pointed at it with her own. “The three muses. Wouldn’t have been my choice, but whatever floats your barge.”

  “Boat.”

  “What boat?”

  “The expression. It’s ‘whatever floats your boat’.”

  “Is it? Well, I’ll have to make a note of that.” She pulled out a pad and pen and jotted something down.

  Meanwhile, thirty seconds ago, I thought I had the coolest sword in the universe. Now it looked like a butter knife found on the floor of a dirty diner.

  “My grandmother gave it to me,” I said for no reason at all.

  Tisiphone stuffed her notepad back in her pocket and sat. “Oh, so it was your first sword. Child-sized.”

  I frowned. “No, it was....never mind.” I leaned my muses up against the wall. “Is there something I can do for you, Tisiphone?”

  She chugged more of her Gatorade and screwed the top back on. Then she placed her own sword on the counter, little dragon and all, and twirled to face me. “Actually, Seeker, it’s I who would like to help you.”

  “Me? Why me?”

  Because the last time a goddess had ‘helped’ me I was stuffed into a cage, sucked into the Web of Wyrd—which is exactly what it sounded like—and just generally ridiculed without mercy.

  Although maybe it was just the Celtic goddesses who ran that playbook. This goddess—Greek, if my mythology course served me right—seemed kinder. I joined her at the counter.

  “Because you may not know this, but you aided in protecting my kingdom when I was in Las Vegas. The messages you sent to me were instrumental in saving my sister’s life. For that, I am indebted to you. And I always pay my debts. Besides,” she shrugged. “We’re soul sisters.”

  “I’m glad I could help, but—wait, did you say ‘soul sisters’?”

  “In a manner of speaking. I protect souls in the Underwor
ld, and you protect and guide them on this plane.”

  “I guess that’s true.”

  She regarded me for a moment and took another swig of her red drink. I went to get a glass of water.

  “You’re quite powerful for a mortal, you know. I can feel the energy sparking all around you. It’s no wonder the Fates agreed to the arrangement. You are more important than anyone realized.”

  I set the water glass down and said, “What arrangement?”

  Tisiphone stood. “Right. Let’s get down to business, Stacy Justice. The reason I’m here is that you are in grave danger.”

  That was a relief. “Tisiphone, if you knew me better, you’d know I’m always in grave danger.” I drank some more water.

  “Let me start from the beginning.” Her violet eyes widened as she spoke. “You see, we’ve undergone some major changes down under, and the whole operation is much more organized than ever. There are several teams in place to ensure that the wheels keep on turning and Proud Mary keeps on burning.” She gave a sly smile.

  “Song and a movie. Impressive.” I finished my water and walked around toward the bar stools where she sat.

  “Thank you. Anyway, one of the new policies is to escort shades—you call them ghosts—more efficiently down the river Styx, and to do that, guardians such as myself are given a list of all those who are slated to pass through a week prior to their termination.” She looked at me, pointedly.

  “And?”

  “And your name was on the list I received this morning.”

  Chapter 18

  “Are you saying I’m going to die in a week?”

  Tisiphone stood. “I’m saying your name was on the list.”

  “The list of people who are going to die.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Oh my god. This can’t be happening.” I put my hand to my forehead and started walking in circles. “I can’t die in a week. I’ve only just figured out who I am. I’m going to be a godmother. I’ve never been to the Caribbean. I’ve never lived anywhere but this state. I still don’t know all the words to American Pie!”