Broommates: Two Witches are Better Than One! (Kentucky Witches Book 2)

by Rebecca Patrick-Howard

  “Working on Ridge’s truck. Had to stop and take a break. Well,” he said a little bashfully, scratching his head, “I really need to use your restroom, too. If that’s okay.”

  “Have at it,” Liza laughed, gesturing down the hall.

  Colt loped off, his boots thudding down her hall. Liza smiled. She understood where he was coming from. He was always being asked to work on people’s cars, fix their roofs, install A/C window units–and he hardly ever turned anyone down or even ask for payment. He’d yet to overcome his fear of public and private restrooms, though. Like just about any man, he had no problem with stepping behind a tree and peeing (or standing off the edge of the porch). But when it came to actually needing to go, he needed the comfort of familiarity.

  So far, Liza had made twelve jars of honeysuckle oil, five jars of plantain oil, and three jars of a jewelweed/plantain mix. Now she was moving on to turning some of those things into salves.

  “Do people really buy these?” Bryar had asked, wrinkling her nose as she held one up to the light and studied the bits of plant matter that floated around in the amber liquid. She’d ask Bryar to go out and gather the plants with her but Bryar, still curled up in bed with only the top of her head poking out, had murmured something about snakes and bears and gone back to sleep.

  “They work just as well for bug bites, poison ivy, and sunburns as the stuff you pay a lot of money for,” Liza told her.

  “But mine come in pretty little bottles. I don’t know that I can use an oil made from something a dog might have peed on,” Bryar grimaced.

  “And yet you think nothing of shooting your face full of venom,” Liza added mildly, looking pointedly at her sister’s full lips and Botoxed forehead.

  She’d have to let the oils set for up to three weeks, which is why Liza tried to make as many as she could when she had free time. The honeysuckle had a small growing window. She’d already cleaned out most of the blossoms she had growing on the fence around her farm. She was going to hit up Colt’s next.

  “Sorry about that,” Colt apologized as he re-entered the kitchen. “Guess that wasn’t very romantic.”

  “Every woman dreams of having a man ask her if he can poop in her house,” Liza said with a wave of her hand. “That’s how you originally won my heart.”

  To be honest, she actually liked the fact that he felt comfortable enough to go to the restroom in her house. It meant he was comfortable not only there but with her. In the years they’d lived together, Liza couldn’t remember a single time she’d seen Mode use the bathroom. Not that she wanted to spend a lot of time with her husband while he was on the toilet, and she did still like a bit of mystery in her relationships, but he’d been secretive in other areas as well–a secrecy that had eventually led to the dissolution of their marriage. Colt didn’t exactly whip it out in front of her when he needed to go but the familiarity and casualness in which he trusted her was important.

  Or maybe she was just getting old. As a ten-year-old, when Bobby Norton had peed on the playground she and Bryar had shrieked and covered their eyes. “Pee! Pee!”

  “I wanted to tell you something, too,” Colt said. He pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down across from Liza. “Is Bryar around?”

  “No,” Liza replied. “She drove off to Winchester to go to Wal-Mart. She dressed for the occasion, too, miniskirt and stilettos. I’m guessing she’s going to show up on that ‘People of Wal-Mart’ page due to people thinking she’s a stripper.”

  When Colt started playing with one of the finished jars, Liza began to worry. He usually got right to the point. The fact that he was stalling made her nervous.

  “What’s up buttercup?”

  “I do love it when you call me pet names,” he grinned.

  My God, he’s handsome, Liza swore to herself. Every single thing about him was appealing, from the reddish streaks in his mussed hair to the stubble of blond beard and rough, callused hands. His body was tight and muscled, not from going to the gym but from working outside. Even in jeans, a white T-shirt with rolled-up sleeves, and work boots caked in mud he was gorgeous–all man.

  “Twila’s in ICU,” he said at last.

  “What?” Liza straightened and pushed back a strand of wayward hair, forgetting about the stuff on her hands and leaving an olive oil streak across her forehead. “What happened?”

  “It’s that sickness that people are getting,” he shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “They’re just calling it a virus. Hospital says that they’ve got more than forty people in there with it. Had to move beds into the old kitchen to put people in there.”

  Their local hospital was a small one, and not necessarily a trauma center. They could do basic procedures but didn’t have an OR, maternity ward, or burn unit. Their ICU section only had four rooms. If a patient had something seriously wrong with them, they had to be transferred two counties over. They didn’t have a kitchen, either. The nursing home across the road provided meals to the patients.

  “Damn,” Liza exhaled. “And they have no idea what’s causing it? That’s insane!”

  “Did a bunch of testing on Twila, from what I know,” he replied. “Ridge told me about it. He’s real tore up about her. They’ve been together, oh, I don’t know how long. Forty years maybe. Can’t find anything wrong with them other than just being sick. No signs of infection or nothing. So they’re just calling it a virus.”

  Virus=that elusive, all-encompassing term that doctors and nurses used when it was obvious something was wrong but they didn’t know what the hell it was.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Liza said, and despite the fact that Twila had kicked her off the committee, she was. She made a mental note to do some good-health spells later that night. It was a full moon, after all. The timing was right. At the rate things were going, however, she’d need a blanket spell to cover the whole town. They were dropping like flies.

  “So that’s Irma, Twila, Gwen…”

  “May,” Colt tossed in.

  “Gwen’s daughter?” Liza asked in surprise. “I just saw her. She came in and got some stuff for her mother. She looked fine!”

  “If she was spending a lot of time in the hospital with her mama, or was with her before she was admitted when Gwen had a fever, then she probably caught it from her,” Colt reasoned. “Her husband, Grim, is going crazy as well. Saw him at the hardware store earlier. He was just walking around, running his hand through his hair, and mumbling to himself. Kinda tore me up to see it.”

  Those folks are all my neighbors, Liza thought with mounting despair. Some of them lived just a mile or two away from her. And they really were dropping like flies.

  Liza was about to open her mouth and state her concern when a light pecking noise came from the front door. Before she or Colt could rise to their feet to answer it, Whinny came flying in, her arms full of plastic trick-or-treating buckets.

  “Hello my loves,” she cried, smiling at Colt and Liza. The smile did not reach her eyes, however. Liza didn’t have to be a witch to know that something was wrong. “I have lots of honeysuckle and other weeds for you.”

  Colt began taking the assorted buckets from his mother’s hands and arranging them on the kitchen table. They were full of honeysuckle blossoms, plantain, jewelweed, and other healing plants that grew wild around Whinny’s property.

  “Thanks Whinny,” Liza said but her heart sank a little; she’d have lots more work now since they needed to be processed while they were fresh. She rose to her feet and began washing her hands at the sink. The only thing that would cut through the oil on them was liquid Dawn so she applied a generous squirt and rubbed it into her skin.

  “Shew,” Whinny sighed as Colt pulled out a chair for her. “Getting’ hot out there. And it’s not even May yet.”

  “Almanac says it might be a hot one this summer,” Colt agreed. “Mild winter so who knows?”

  “Mild?” Liza turned and laughed. “I was snowed in for three days when we got those twelve inches.”

/>   “It’s been worse,” Colt said.

  “Well, I’m sorry to come bearing bad news but–wait, where’s your sister?”

  The fact that Whinny looked nervous more than mildly curious had Liza marching back to the table and taking a seat. “She went into town for some things. Why? Is something wrong?”

  “Maybe,” Whinny nodded. “Pepper Parker died about an hour ago.”

  “Pepper?!” Liza was stunned. “She’s as healthy as a horse. She might actually be the healthiest person in Kudzu Valley.”

  Pepper was a health nut. A vegetarian, Pepper was known for lecturing anyone about good eating habits no matter where she might run into them. Liza herself had been accosted in the Dollar General’s parking lot, where she’d listened to a half-hour sermon on the benefits of kale. She’d been treated to more lectures at the library, canned soup aisle at the grocery store, and once in line at the post office. Pepper also went to the gym every day, rain or shine, and was a bevy of health information and trivia that she found on the internet. She constantly bragged that she hadn’t been to a doctor in eleven years.

  “I’m afraid so,” Whinny replied, eyes downcast. “I just got a text from her sister Judy.”

  “But…” Liza was at a loss.

  “Where’d it happen?” Colt asked. It occurred to Liza, then, that her death might have been an accident.

  “At home,” Whinny replied. “Her sister went over to check on her this afternoon and found her dead on the couch. She passed away in her sleep. There will be an autopsy, of course.”

  “Damn,” Liza said. Because sometimes cursing is the only appropriate reaction.

  “They’re calling it a virus, but I don’t see how it can be,” Whinny said. “A virus that kills within days? Really? And where did it come from?”

  Liza agreed. Then, like a bolt of lightning, a thought struck her so hard she nearly fell from her chair. “Oh my God. Bryar ran into Pepper’s car recently! We were backing out and she didn’t see her car and…”

  Liza let her words trail off and hang above the three of them. They were like weights in the kitchen, threatening to come crashing down on the Formica table.

  “I know,” Whinny said softly. “People are already talking about that.”

  “Hell, it’s just a coincidence,” Colt said loudly, banging his fist on the table. “What the hell’s the matter with people? She might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but it’s a far stretch going from–“

  “Bitch to murderer?” Liza Jane offered.

  “Yeah.”

  “Where did Bryar go?” Whinny asked.

  “She went over the line,” Liza replied. “She wanted good cheese so I sent her to Wal-Mart.”

  “Send her a text and tell her to come straight home, not to stop anywhere,” Whinny suggested.

  “Oh, you don’t think someone would hurt her, do you?” Liza asked with a grin. The grin fell from her face like shards of glass when she saw that neither Colt nor his mother were smiling. “Really?”

  “People are nuts,” Colt said with a loud exhale. “I wouldn’t put it past them to do something stupid.”

  “We’ve got to figure out what’s going on here, then,” Liza said. The desperation she was starting to feel was building. Not just for everyone else’s sake, but for Bryar’s as well. And we need to do it fast.”

  Colt and Whinny nodded their agreement.

  “How do we even start, though?” Whinny asked. “We’re not doctors. I have no idea where to begin.”

  “Neither do I,” Liza admitted. “Neither do I.”

  * * *

  LIZA TUGGED HER COAT closer to her and pulled the sleeves down over her hands. It was freezing cold outside; no lightning bugs out tonight.

  “Dang, it’s cold out here,” Bryar muttered.

  “We’re from the northeast. This should not bother us,” Liza huffed as she navigated them through the murky trees and underbrush.

  “We got soft, girlfriend,” Bryar said. “We got soft.”

  “Dude, we were never hard.”

  It was true. They’d attempted a camping trip as teenagers. A weekend in the White Mountains up in New Hampshire. About an hour after darkness fell they were hopping in their car, driving out to find the closest Holiday Inn, leaving their friends and boyfriends behind. “We’ll, uh, come back for our tents and sleeping bags in the morning,” Bryar had called before starting the engine.

  “How about here?” Bryar panted now, pausing in the darkness.

  Liza shined the flashlight around, illuminating the nearby trees and bushes. “Not yet,” she answered at last. “We need a clearing. We need to get closer to the top.”

  “’We need to get closer to the top,’” Bryar mimicked her in a high-pitched tone. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you? You’re going to get me up here in the wilderness and sacrifice me or something.”

  “I only do that to virgins,” Liza replied drily. “I think you’re safe.”

  A few minutes later Liza stopped and turned around, flashing the light in Bryar’s face. “Hey, witch, stop it,” Bryar shrieked, lowering her head to dodge the bright light. “You’re blinding me.”

  “I think this will work,” Liza said.

  The clearing was about ten feet by six feet, not very big, but they could see the moon from where they stood. At the bottom of the mountain they could see the farm house; it looked like a dollhouse from where they stood. With the billowy smoke puffing from the chimney and the soft light glowing from the living room lamp, it was an inviting and welcoming sight. Even further out, they could see some of the lights of town. They twinkled in the distance, little fairies dancing under the moon.

  “Okay, let’s get this show on the road,” Bryar said. “We don’t want to die of hypothermia.”

  “Colt won’t let us. I told him to come up and get us if we’re not back in two hours.” Liza was already busy unpacking the backpack she’d slung over her shoulder.

  “Two hours!” Bryar shouted. “We’re going to be up here for two hours!”

  “Longer if you stand around and complain about it.”

  Bryar grumbled as she began unpacking the backpack she’d slung over her shoulder. Within minutes she had turned on the battery-powered lantern that would help them see how to set up and was pulling the candles from the zipper compartment.

  “So he’s staying the night?” Bryar asked.

  “He offered, yes.”

  “That makes me feel better.”

  Liza paused. “You scared up here?”

  Bryar shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m used to having people right on top of me. And you have to admit, the house looks really creepy from the outside.”

  “It’s just because I haven’t had the money to get it painted yet,” Liza bristled. “And, yeah, some of the windows need replacing and are boarded up. I’ll get around to it. Eventually.”

  “I’m just no used to being in the country like this,” Bryar explained. “You barely get internet reception. My cell phone service doesn’t even reach.”

  “I know,” Liza nodded. “I had to switch to something local myself.”

  “Okay, my part’s finished,” Bryar announced.

  When Liza was ready, she turned to face her sister. “Okay, you know what’s next.”

  Bryar groaned. “You’re going to make me take my clothes off, aren’t you?”

  “I bet you say that on all your dates,” Liza teased her.

  “It’s forty degrees out! You’re going to kill me.”

  “You know it’s better,” Liza told her.

  “Whatever.” But Bryar began shedding her outer layers.

  When Liza had her own clothing off, and was already starting to shiver, she flipped the switch on the lantern and they were bathed in darkness once again. The two women then stepped inside the circle they’d formed with candles. While Bryar started to slowly draw a line of salt in a circle outside of the candles, Liza began lighting them one by one.

  “So you ne
ed the–” Bryar began, but then stopped. “Oh, I see. That’s the way you’re going to be.”

  Liza shot her a quick grin and returned to concentrating on her task at hand. Lighting one candle by sheer will was one thing; after the fifth one she was starting to sway a little.

  “Don’t pass out on me yet,” Bryar warned her. “We haven’t even started and I am not carrying your naked butt down the mountain.”

  When Liza finished, she stepped back to join Bryar and took her by the hand. It was ice cold. “You’re freezing,” she whispered.

  “No shit.”

  Together, they raised their arms high into the air and began chanting, a simple call to the elements. With each one, they turned to face a different direction, until they were facing north again and once more looking down at the valley below.

  In her right hand, Liza held a small vial of oil and herbs she’d mixed there onsite. She released Bryar’s hand then and faced her. Using the ancient words Nana Bud had taught her, she smeared the oil on Bryar’s cheeks and forehead.

  “Watch the hair,” Bryar mumbled.

  “Shhh!”

  When she finished, Bryar did the same to her.

  They joined hands once again and faced one another. In the glow of the candlelight, Liza could almost see the little girl in Bryar. Her face, devoid of the harsh makeup she favored, was fresh and pure. In her nakedness it was easier to see the person she’d once been.

  She imagined that Bryar was looking at her and thinking the same. Lately, Liza had been letting her red hair go free from sticky styling products and processing. Now it blew free around her shoulders, blowing back from her face in the wind. Her lips, bare from color or gloss, chattered nude against the cold. Without her vintage dresses and the jeans and boots she’d started wearing as uniform, her body was unembellished and unusually modest.

  When both had been anointed as part of the ritual, an act that would encourage sight, Liza kneeled down and picked up the cauldron of water that rested between them. When she rose, Bryar took hold of the other side and they gazed into it together.