Wisteria Warned

by Angela Pepper

  Then he kissed me again, this time on the lips.

  Chapter 35

  ONE DAY LATER

  I hummed happily to myself as I added croutons to a giant wooden bowl filled with romaine lettuce. I diverted one crouton into my mouth for a sample taste. It was crunchy, pleasantly salty, and just garlicky enough. Who knew you could make your own croutons? Or that they tasted better than the crumbled salty chunks that came in packaged salads?

  I’d never made my own croutons before, but since my only task for dinner that night was to prepare a Caesar salad, I’d gone all out. And by all out, I mean I made the croutons and dressing. The lettuce had been prepared by Ribbons the Wyvern, who’d taken great delight in “eviscerating” the heads of romaine. He had been less than pleased by my insistence he wash his talons with dish soap thoroughly, but he’d come around, even appearing to enjoy his bath in the kitchen sink. Boa had watched the proceedings in horror. Take a bath willingly? Her tiny feline mind had been blown.

  Both of them had left me alone in the kitchen to finish up the salad.

  I heard the front door open. My daughter called out, “Hi, honey! I’m home from work!”

  “Hi, honey!” I called right back. “I’m in the kitchen, slaving over a hot stove for you.”

  She came into the kitchen and peered over my shoulder into the huge bowl. “Ribbons made lettuce entrails?”

  “He sure did.”

  “I hope you made him wash his weird little hands.”

  “I did. It was a whole thing.”

  “Aww. And I missed it.” She grabbed a crouton and crunched it. “These taste different.”

  “That’s because I made them. From scratch. Did you know croutons are made from sliced bread? Now that I know how easy it is, we’ll be having croutons on everything.”

  “Crouton pizza?”

  “Sure. And crouton stir-fry.”

  “Crouton mashed potatoes,” she said, getting excited.

  “Croutons on spaghetti, served in the bath tub on the tub plate.”

  She snagged a few more from the bowl and munched them happily. “You could mix these with a tub of popcorn and Skittles, for movie night.”

  “Genius idea!”

  She ate a few more. “Speaking of genius, I noticed all that moss is gone from our roof. That was a good idea you had, talking loudly about getting a big, heavy handyman to scrape around up there. It looks like our house took the hint and got rid of the moss on her own.”

  “Our house is female?”

  Zoey gave me a duh look, then asked, “How was work today?”

  “Not bad.” I stifled a yawn. “It’s hard to focus on basic job duties after two hours of sleep and a big adventure the night before, but it’s also kind of a relief. I’m glad I’m not a full-time investigator, like...” I hesitated to say his name. Earlier that morning, I’d cast some unintentional magic when saying his name. Our Pop Tarts had suddenly flown out of the toaster with giant hearts burned onto the fronts and backs. Zoey had teased me mercilessly.

  She smirked at me, knowing exactly why I hesitated to say his name, then asked, “What about Frank? Did he talk about you-know-what with his sister?”

  I was relieved for the change of topic. The only thing more embarrassing than talking to my daughter about my lack of a love life was talking about the existence of one.

  “She’s not a chicken,” I said.

  “That’s good, I think.” Zoey held up both hands. “But I’m trying hard not to judge. People should be whatever they want to be, even if it’s a chicken. Is she even a shifter?”

  “Yes. They had the talk, and it turns out she’s...” I’d gotten Frank’s permission, from Bellatrix, to share our family’s secrets with each other, but I made Zoey wait for it. “A swan.”

  Zoey gawked. “I remember Frank saying his sister has weird chicken feet, like our bath tub. And that when they were kids, he used to call her an ugly duckling. But it turns out she’s a swan?”

  “I know. Isn’t it ironic and wonderful? Bellatrix didn’t even know. One day she was in her regular human form, not a care in the world, hiking through the woods with her dog, an adorable yet useless little rat terrier who wouldn’t know what to do with an actual rodent if it jumped out and performed a musical number from Cabaret—” I rubbed my forehead. “Now I’m picturing a mouse in a top hat, singing Mr. Cellophane.”

  Zoey waved a hand impatiently. “Back to the woods! Frank’s ugly duckling sister and her little dog were walking in the woods, and then what?”

  “When suddenly, a bear lurched out of the woods and came right at her.” I puffed up my chest and stood on tiptoes, making myself big and scary. I roared in a deep gruff voice, “I’m a big hungry bear, and I’m gonna eat you, because I’m a bear, and that’s what I do.”

  Zoey blinked at me, less impressed at my storytelling by the minute. When Frank had done a similar performance for me earlier that day at the library, I had been in hysterics. That man knew how to tell a tale! All those years as the Wisteria Public Library’s children’s librarian had not gone to waste.

  Zoey said flatly, “Then what?”

  “That was when the fear triggered her latent magic, and she turned into a swan,” I said in my regular voice.

  “Like what happened to me,” she said.

  “Except she didn’t even know magic ran in her family. At least you had your grandfather as a frame of reference. Frank’s sister didn’t have a clue! And suddenly there she was.” I waved up and down my body. “Full swan!”

  “She must have been so surprised.”

  “Not as surprised as the bear, who immediately fled the scene.”

  “What about the dog?”

  “The dog barked at the swan until she changed back, about two hours later, once the shock had worn off.”

  Zoey let out a sigh. “I’m glad the dog didn’t have to make a noble sacrifice and get eaten by the bear.”

  She reached into the wooden bowl for more croutons.

  I spanked her hand. “Leave some for dinner with the Moores,” I said. We had been invited to a backyard barbecue with the family next door, to celebrate Corvin coming home safely the night before. As for any lingering effects of having been abducted, he seemed to have taken it all in stride.

  Luckily for Veronica Tate’s sanity, the kid had remained in his dog form throughout the entire kidnapping ordeal. It saved Veronica the shock of her life, plus she got to avoid a complimentary mind wiping from the DWM.

  Corvin told his father it had been easy enough to not blow his cover, and that being down in the tomb hadn’t been so bad. He discovered that he enjoyed spending time underground.

  The woman, Veronica Tate, had not fared as well. Two days and two nights below ground in a dark tomb, with only a few survival supplies left behind by her kidnapper, had severely tested the woman. No sooner had Bentley freed her from the tomb than she began yelling about how she was going to sue the entire town, including the incompetent police force, the cemetery where the tomb was located, and anyone else she happened to make eye contact with. When one of the paramedics offered her hot chocolate, she threatened to sue him because the cocoa was too hot.

  Some people showed their gratitude for being rescued from a tomb in a funny way.

  Next to me, Zoey sighed. It was a weightier-sounding sigh than seemed warranted by merely having to stop eating my croutons, delicious though they were.

  “Sigh a little louder,” I said. “I don’t think the whole town heard you.”

  “Mo-om,” she said, breaking my name into two syllables to show her annoyance.

  My mom senses tingled.

  Hang on, I told myself, sensing a mood change in my mercurial sixteen-year-old. Zoey was about as easygoing as a kid could be, but she did have her moments, and she was going through a lot of changes. Between the introduction of her genie father, her first job at the museum, and the early stages of romance with the kid in the caveman costume, she had a lot going on. Plus the shifter t
hing, the witch thing, and regular teen hormones.

  “What’s going on?” I asked gently. “Hard day at the museum, scraping gum off benches?”

  “No. Well, yes, but that’s not the worst part about today. The worst part is I already know about the Moore family’s big news.”

  She reached into the bowl and took a crouton. I took one as well, and waited for her to tell me what was bothering her so much that she was sighing loudly and making my name two syllables.

  “They’re leaving town,” she said.

  “A vacation?” I munched another handful of croutons. “After everything they’ve been through lately, that’s probably a good idea.”

  She gave me a serious look, her hazel eyes drooping at the sides. “They’re leaving town,” she repeated, enunciating each word carefully.

  Leaving town. The news hit me with an internal thud. “No,” I said, but I already believed it. Zoey wouldn’t joke about something this serious.

  “Corvin told me,” she said.

  “When? Did he come see you at work today?”

  “No. Just now. Before I came in the house. He jumped out of the bushes and barked at me for a while, then we talked.” She grabbed another handful of croutons. “He said his dad has a new job somewhere else, somewhere far away from here.” She turned her back to me and sniffed. “I can’t do this,” she said. “You’ll have to go to dinner without me.”

  I didn’t say anything. There were no words that could offer comfort. Not yet, when the news was so fresh.

  “Why?” She choked back a sob, her back still to me. “Why get attached to people if everyone moves away? Why bother putting down roots at all?”

  I reached out to pat her shoulder.

  She pulled away from my touch as though it was cursed. She whirled around to face me, her eyes red and her expression furious. “This is your fault,” she said. “You had to move us here, and you let me get comfortable. You told me things were going to be good. Do you call this good?”

  I felt a tug inside my mind, and then Ribbons’ voice. “I would not want to be in your human shoes right now, Zed.”

  I replied silently for him to shut up.

  “You let me get attached,” Zoey said. She wiped at one eye.

  “You care about Corvin,” I stated plainly.

  “He’s like the creepy little brother I never knew I wanted.”

  “He’s a special kid,” I said.

  She frowned. “Being an only child sucks!”

  I had a few responses go zipping through my head, but I was smart enough to keep them to myself.

  “They can’t move away,” she said. “They can’t. We won’t let them. Tell Mr. Moore you did a spell, and you can see the future. Tell him there’s something terrible coming, some big, horrible thing, and it’s going to happen if they leave. A big apocalypse thing.”

  Gently, I said, “I can’t tell them that.”

  “Then you have to cast a spell that makes them want to stay! Talk to your friends and get Mr. Moore’s job transfer canceled.”

  “I can’t do that, Zoey.”

  “It’s only fair. He’s the one who got you a job here. If it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t be here. It’s only fair that he has to stick around.”

  “And don’t you remember how that felt? To have someone else messing around with your destiny?”

  “So what? It all worked out. You got over it. You’re not mad at him anymore.”

  I took a breath and said nothing. The conversation was spiraling out of control, and not even the wittiest comment could save us.

  She crossed her arms. “What good is being a witch if you can’t fix the things that are wrong and make them right?”

  Her words resonated with me. She could have left out the word witch and used adult instead.

  She was only sixteen, only just learning about how the world worked, and how being an adult, witch or otherwise, didn’t give a person that much more power than being a kid.

  And what was wrong or right, anyway?

  I thought of the beautiful goddess, one of the Four Eves. Mahra.

  We’d changed her fate.

  With the speedy snip of a pair of bolt cutters, she had been sent back to whatever time and place she’d tried to enter our world from. Had that been right of us, to treat her appearance as a wrong? Sure, she’d killed Temperance Krinkle by that point, but it could be argued that Krinkle willingly sacrificed herself.

  What would Mahra have done if she’d been allowed to walk the earth in these modern times?

  I would never know.

  I looked into my daughter’s hazel eyes, at the hurt she held within, and I thought about us not as individuals, but as the next larger unit. Families.

  The Moores.

  The Riddles.

  The Wonders.

  Our lives crossed over and under each other in countless ways. There was no way of knowing which decisions would turn out to be wrong or right for an individual, their family, their community, or the world. What seemed right for an individual might harm the family, or vice versa.

  All we could do was make the decision that seemed like the best one at the time, with what little information we had. And then hope for the best.

  I didn’t try to explain that to my daughter. She was a smart girl, and she already knew.

  We could talk about it another time, perhaps over a bucket full of croutons, popcorn, and Skittles.

  Instead of delving into the philosophical, I offered a solution to the problem at hand.

  “Maybe I could have our house talk to their house,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. “And then the Moore house could grow a dungeon, and keep the Moores locked up until they’ve come to their senses and dropped this crazy idea about moving away.”

  “Now there’s a good idea!” Her eyes had dried, and now she rubbed her cheeks clear of streaks.

  “Or I could gather up all the ghosts I can find around town,” I said, picking up speed. “And send them to wherever the Moores are moving. The ghosts will be under strict orders to haunt the Moores until they come back here, where their Spirit Charmed witch friend can take care of them.”

  Zoey gave me a weak smile. “I like this devious side of you.”

  “I could coordinate something with the other local witches and jinx all the roads leading out of town so they all lead right back again.”

  Zoey gasped as her bright hazel eyes widened. “That’s the answer,” she said. “I love it in movies when the roads out of town bring you right back again.”

  I winked at her. “I shall speak to the local coven, and we’ll get to work right away.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Or... we could just let them go, as long as they promise to return regularly for visits.”

  “And let all of my amazing witch powers go to waste?”

  “It won’t be wasted. You can still solve murders, and kidnappings, and whatever happens next.”

  I held out both hands. “What are you talking about? Between me, the coven, the DWM, and the new vampire detective watching over this town, all working together like a finely tuned machine, there shouldn’t be any more crimes. People are going to start behaving themselves around here.”

  Zoey turned and peered into the big, wooden bowl which held only romaine lettuce and three croutons. “Uh-oh,” she said. “This salad isn’t very Caesar-like anymore.”

  “Go ahead and eat those last three,” I said. “I’ll make another batch.”

  As she was crunching on the croutons, the doorbell rang.

  “Doorbell,” she said.

  “Doorbell,” I replied.

  In a sing-song voice, she said, “It’s your boooy-friend.”

  “It’s still your job to get the door.”

  “Right!” She ran out of the kitchen.

  Chapter 36

  THREE HOURS LATER

  Dinner with the neighbors was over, and Bentley and I were alone together, sitting on a log and looking out over the sea. The sun was sett
ing, and making its usual colorful painting on the sky.

  The backyard barbecue with the Moores had been bittersweet. Just when I’d gotten used to having the Moore clan next door, they were leaving. And they all seemed thrilled about it, too.

  I’d never, ever, ever seen Chet so relaxed. He’d been wearing sweatpants with a drawstring waist. Sweatpants! With a drawstring waist! I had to ask him to open a wine bottle using his shifter-wolf-claw trick, just to make sure it was really Chet and not his doppelganger. Chet, being as relaxed as he was, simply laughed at my request and flashed a whole hand full of claws.

  Over grilled chicken and Caesar salad, we learned that he and Chessa had both been thinking about moving away for a while, ever since she’d come back from her coma. Each thought the other wasn’t interested, though, so they’d been afraid to bring it up. Both of them had good memories associated with the town, but not nearly as many as the bad ones. Chessa in particular was having a difficult time assimilating. She kept getting into fights with Chloe over how to raise the baby. The sisters had assumed Chessa’s gift would be simple, but nothing about the noble sacrifice had turned out simple at all.

  It had given me a chill to realize that Chloe’s desire for a family was what had brought me to Wisteria, where I’d found more of my own family.

  Chessa, unlike her two triplet sisters, who were just garden-variety gorgons, had the power to read minds. It had always been an issue for her, but since coming back, reading people’s thoughts had become unbearable. Every time she bumped into someone she knew, which, in a small town, happened frequently, she would be overwhelmed by their emotions, their pity, and their curiosity. She couldn’t blame townspeople. There were dozens of juicy rumors circling around about her year-long absence. People couldn’t stop thinking about it. Chessa would never be able to simply pop out and pick up a bag oranges at the grocery store like a regular person. Every time she showed her face, she had to see herself reflected in other people’s eyes. She kept having to revisit her most painful memories.

  I couldn’t blame her at all for wanting to go somewhere new, somewhere she could be anonymous.