19
I’d like to tell you that after all that drama, we got on point, worked out a grand scheme to stop Chesterfield in his tracks, dealt with the Strigoi Sisters, and immediately started planning the holidays. End of story.
Yeah. Not so much.
After Barnaby’s stunning revelation, we all went to our respective corners to recover. I heard my parents talking quietly in the other room, and Mom’s quiet crying, but then I fell into an exhausted sleep.
The next morning, I dressed quietly so as not to wake them and headed downstairs to find Gemma and Mindy already setting up the espresso bar.
Since we couldn’t very well talk in front of our new hire, I said, “Morning. How’d you all sleep?”
Mindy immediately launched into a description of some experiment in “lucid dreaming” she was trying, while Gemma answered with, “About like you’d expect.”
No argument from me on that one.
A sharp rap on the front door diverted my attention. “Dang,” I said, “someone must need their coffee.”
I crossed the distance to the door and opened it to be greeted by a rather officious man clutching a large manila envelop. “Gemma Andrews?” he asked briskly.
“She’s in the back there,” I said, stepping aside. Something about his manner gave me a really bad feeling about where this was all headed.
Gemma came out from behind the counter to meet him.
“Are you Gemma Andrews?” he asked bluntly.
“I am,” she said. “What can I do for you.”
He handed her the thick brown envelope. “You’ve been served,” he said. “Have a nice day.”
With that, he turned on his heel and marched out.
“Uh oh,” Mindy said, as Gemma undid the clasp on the envelope. “This can’t be good. Did you get a look at his aura? Spiking red all over the place. Total warning sign.”
Just then, Tori came out of her micro apartment. She stopped when she saw the look on her mother’s face. “Mom?” she said. “What is it?”
Gemma had to try twice before she managed an answer. “Your father just had me served with divorce papers,” she said flatly. “Excuse me. I have to go to Cotterville.”
From the stairway, Mom said, “Gem, wait,” but she was too late. Even as Mom rapidly descended the last few steps with Dad right behind her, Gemma was out the back door.
“Jeff,” Mom said, “stop her.”
Dad barreled past Mom and after Gemma, with the four of us crowding in the doorway to watch. He got one hand on the door, before Gemma threw the car in reverse, backed into the alley, and sped off in a cloud of dust.
Dad turned back toward us. “Do you want me to go after her?” he asked.
“Tori?” Mom said. “What do you think?”
Her face ashen with shock, Tori said, “No. This is between them. Mom will call us if she needs us.”
Scrap Andrews didn’t look up when he heard a step at the open door of his office. “You get that shipment stowed?” he asked, assuming he was speaking to the lumber yard manager. Instead, a thick sheaf of legal papers sailed into his field of vision, knocking the pencil out of his hand, and landing with a resounding thump on top of his desk.
“You want to tell me what the hell that’s about?” Gemma demanded. “And while we’re at it, who have you been buying Obsession perfume for?”
Looking up into his wife’s angry face, Scrap’s expression hardened. “How do you know I’ve been buying Obsession?”
“Let’s just say I have my ways,” Gemma said. “Answer the question.”
Calmly retrieving his pencil, Scrap said, “Your ‘ways’ are exactly what got us here, and for your information, that perfume was a gift for a nice, normal lady I’ve been seeing.”
Gemma opened her mouth to speak, clamped it shut again, then finally said, “Do you even care that you’re breaking your daughter’s heart?”
“I’m divorcing you,” Scrap said, “not Tori.”
“Tell her that,” Gemma snapped.
“I’d be happy to,” Scrap retorted, “but she won’t take my calls.”
“Because you wouldn’t take hers for a week.”
Scrap stood up and offered the papers back to Gemma. “You’ll need these when you hire a lawyer,” he said coldly.
Gemma took the documents, but then said, in a calmer voice, “How long have you been thinking about this?”
“Since I met Mary Ann,” he said.
Gemma frowned, then grew red in the face when realization dawned. “Mary Ann Marshall?” Gemma said. “You’re old enough to be her father, not to mention the fact she’s gone chasing after every man in three counties. Did you have to take up with a complete slut?”
Scrap stiffened. “I don’t appreciate you speaking that way about my future wife,” he said archly.
“For the record,” Gemma said tersely, “your current wife doesn’t appreciate being cheated on and lied to.”
At that, Scrap at least had the grace to look ashamed of himself. In a more subdued voice, he said, “I am sorry about that part, Gemma, but I haven’t been happy in a long time.”
The placating attempt fell on deaf ears.
“Well, Scrap,” Gemma said hotly, “God forbid that you not be happy. That’s certainly worth destroying a 35-year marriage without even trying to work it out with your wife and alienating your only child in the process.”
An uneasy look came into his eyes. “Please don’t tell Tori about Mary Ann,” he said. “I’d like to do that myself, so she understands what really happened.”
“I’ll just bet you would like to do some snow job on our daughter,” Gemma said, “but you know what? She’s smarter than you realize and I’m done protecting you, especially after the way you’ve reacted to the truth about the powers that Tori and I share. I don’t think you give a tinker’s damn in hell about magic. That was just an excuse to file for divorce so you could be with your little bimbo.”
The hard look returned to Scrap’s eyes. “Be careful, Gemma,” he said, “or I might not protect you either.”
“That two-timing weasel,” Mom said hotly. “He’s going to need protecting when I get done with him. How old is Mary Ann Marshall anyway?”
Tori, looking like she wanted to throw up, supplied the information. “Twenty-eight,” she said. “She was two years behind me and Jinx in school.”
When Gemma came back two hours after her abrupt exit, the four of us went upstairs to talk in private. From Gemma’s description, her encounter with her husband had been ugly from the start but then turned vaguely menacing.
I didn’t want to be insensitive, but if Scrap made good on his veiled threat, he could cause us all a lot of trouble — a commodity we already enjoyed in abundance.
“Do you really think Scrap would make good on his threat about outing you and Tori?” I asked.
“Who knows what he’ll do,” Gemma said angrily. “The man has lost his damned mind.”
As much as I hated to put it on the table, this couldn’t be allowed to get to the damage control stage. We needed to think about prevention.
“Uh, then don’t we have to . . . do something . . . to keep that from happening?”
Beside me, Tori gasped, “You want to kill my father?”
Normally Tori doesn’t go straight to extremes, but her nerves were more than a little frayed.
“For God’s sake, Tori,” I said, “of course not. I mean don’t we have to put some kind of spell on him to make him forget about the magic?”
“Oh,” she said, “sorry. I kinda do want to kill him so I thought that’s where you were going.”
Even though she was completely serious, the rest of us cracked up. Our shared laughter bled some of the tension out of the air. We were sitting in my living room, each with a cat in our laps.
I’d like to tell you my furry crew showed up in sympathetic support of Tori and Gemma, but honestly, they just saw four idle pairs of hands available for petting duty.
“Or Mary Ann,” Mom said.
“Why would Mary Ann . . . ” Gemma stopped and settled her mouth in a firm line. “I didn’t consider that,” she said tersely, “but you’re right. Excuse me; I’m going to get another cup of coffee.”
All of our minds had instantly gone to the same place, and mine, at least, could have used a dose of brain bleach at the thought of pillow talk between Scrap and his girlfriend. I can’t imagine what that image was doing to Gemma.
“Uh, why don’t Tori and I go downstairs and let you guys talk,” I suggested to Mom.
“I think that’s a good idea, honey,” Mom said. “We’ll be down in a little bit.”
Gemma stood mindlessly swirling the coffee in her cup with a spoon when a voice behind her said, “You planning on churning that coffee?”
Shaking her head, Gemma laid the spoon down on the counter. Then she felt her friend’s hand on her shoulder. “The girls are gone,” Kelly said. “You can go ahead and have that cry you’re holding in.”
Gemma laughed, but the sound came out mixed with a sob. Still staring at the coffee, she said, “How could he, Kell? Was I that bad of a wife?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kelly said. “Scrap was that bad of a husband. Come on, honey. Sit down so we can talk.”
Obediently, Gemma picked up her cup and crossed to the small breakfast table, accepting the tissue Kelly held out to her as they both claimed a chair.
“Jinx is right about putting a spell on Scrap,” she said, “and we have to do it immediately.”
“I know.”
“Can we put a wart on Mary Ann’s nose while we’re at it?”
“No,” Kelly said, “but I wish we could.”
Twin tears rolled down Gemma’s face. “What am I going to do now?”
“This may not be the right time to tell you this,” Kelly said, “and we haven’t even told Jinx yet, but Jeff and I are going to buy the empty store next door to Chase’s place.”
Gemma’s features wilted even farther. “How can I stay in Cotterville without you?” she asked, her lower lip trembling.
“You don’t,” Kelly said. “You take Scrap for every cent he’s worth, including the house, which you sell so you can buy the old hardware store on the corner. The same guy has both buildings listed. You can finally open that apothecary shop you’ve been talking about since we were kids. I know it’s a lot of change at once . . . ”
Gemma interrupted. “Stop,” she said, dabbing at her eyes. “You don’t have to sell me. It’s perfect.”
Kelly blinked. “Just like that?”
“I’m not the one who upended our lives,” Gemma said firmly. “Scrap did that, and long before I told him about the world of magic.”
“True,” Kelly said slowly. “But don’t you need to think about this some more?”
“No,” Gemma said. “If I do, I’ll doubt myself, just like always, and this time, that’s not happening. Moving over here to be with my . . .” her voice broke. “With my real family is just what I need. But it could be months before the divorce is final and I have the money, what if the building sells before then?”
“Oh,” Kelly smiled, “I don’t think it will be months. We may not be able to put a wart on Mary Ann’s nose, but I think we can manage to ensure that Scrap goes along with everything you want in the divorce.”
“Kelly!” Gemma gasped. “That would be an unethical use of our magic!”
“More unethical than a man cheating on his wife?” Kelly asked, arching her eyebrow. “I don’t think so. Besides, it won’t be unethical if we word the spell the right way. After all, we’re just interested in keeping the peace.”
“My God,” Gemma said, “Jinx is right. You’re a changed woman.”
“You’re dang right I’m a changed woman,” Kelly said firmly, “just like you’re going to be. We’re done apologizing and being penalized for our magic, especially by men.”
For the first time that day, Gemma laughed. “Should I warn Jeff about that?”
“Jeff is handling everything just fine,” Kelly said. “He wants to run a sporting goods store and I completely support him in that — and he completely supports me being back in the Fae world. Scrap is a different story.”
Dabbing at her eyes again, Gemma sat up straighter. “Well,” she said, “I guess that settles it. We have to wear those new t-shirts Tori ordered for the shop.”
“What new t-shirts?”
“The ones that say, ‘Badass Feminist Witches Unite.’”
In the alley below, Tori paused at the trash cans as laughter floated down from the open windows of Jinx’s apartment. Through her own tears, she smiled. “Best friend magic,” she whispered. “Works every time.”
20
We didn’t find out for another week or so what Mom and Gemma cooked up that day in my apartment. All we knew is that when they came downstairs, Gemma was herself. Tori went to her mom and gave her a hug. “You feeling a little better?” she asked.
“I am,” Gemma said, “and I’m starving. How about we get pizza from the Stone Hearth?
With Mindy there, we couldn’t let Darby cook for us, and all my suspicions about the guy aside, Pete made a mean pie.
I placed the call, and Dad retrieved the food, coming back in the shop balancing four large, flat cardboard boxes.
“That guy Pete looks awful,” he said as he deposited the boxes on one of the tables in the espresso bar. “He can barely put one foot in front of the other.”
“Oh?” I said, eyeing the food suspiciously. “Do you think we should eat these?”
Dad laughed. “Don’t be a germaphobe, honey. He said he got ahold of something bad at the Halloween carnival and just hasn’t been able to shake it yet. I know how he feels. I’ve hit some bad truck stops in my day.”
“Do you think maybe we should check on him later?” Mom asked with concern. “He does live alone after all.”
“I’ll mention it to Chase,” I said. “They’ve gone biking together a few times, so I guess that makes them friends.”
Getting some food in us definitely helped everyone’s mood, as did the distraction of appearing normal for Mindy’s benefit.
After a little covert pumping, Tori was able to determine the ghost hunting trio was indeed “onto something major” but wouldn’t be publishing any evidence just yet. That meant they were sticking by their decision to hold the video of John Dodge.
The fact that the young ghost hunters had been able to capture the deceased ballplayer on film at all still bothered me — a lot. The original spectral baseball video we could explain thanks to the jolt of juice the spirits received from the Ionescus. This one was different.
Greer suggested we were seeing an overall rise in paranormal energy levels in and around Briar Hollow commensurate with the increased Fae presence in the area. On the one hand, that was good for the courthouse square association’s goal of turning the town into a paranormal destination, but it also meant we were going to have to get serious about controlling and coordinating manifestations. One more thing to add to the “to do” list.
After we finished lunch, Gemma decided to take out her excess energies via a manic round of cleaning that had the unintentional effect of putting Darby into a major pouting fit. Not only had the brownie been denied the pleasure of preparing lunch for us, he was now being treated to the sight of someone scrubbing areas where he never let so much as a speck of dirt appear.
Every time I went into the storeroom for something, he materialized and demanded to know if his work was considered substandard.
Between keeping up the ruse for Mindy and trying to manage Darby’s wounded ego, I gave up at 3 o’clock and sent our lone, non-magical employee home. That left us free to put Dad in charge of the shop and head down to the lair — with a snack request to Darby delivered with assurances of starvation.
The olive branch worked. The brownie immediately brightened and said he would prepare something wonderful.
Given the state of things in the lair, sustenance might be needed. Basically, the whole team was in a state of total disorganization.
After everything we learned the night before, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. There were so many topics we needed to explore, no one — not even Moira — had a firm handle on where to start. She had, however, located and activated the standing mirror and checked in with my grandfather.
Beau informed me privately that Barnaby did not look as if he had slept, but was otherwise “quite himself.” If I was worried about him, I can’t imagine how Moira must be feeling.
When I called for ideas about how we could start making some progress, suggestions started flying thick and fast. That’s when Glory put her fingers in her mouth and let out with an ear-piercing whistle that sent Duke diving under Beau’s feet.
“Would you stop doing that!” Festus roared. “Cats have better hearing than humans and dogs put together. If you’re hurting the dead mutt’s ears, you’re killing mine.”
“Sorry,” Glory said, “but you were all talking at one time, and I need you to hush and listen to me for a change.”
With his ears still lying flat, Festus said, “We’re listening, and you danged sure better have something to say.”
“I do,” Glory said. “Research is what I did for a living. We have to start with what we know and connect the dots from there. All we know for sure is that Mr. Chesterfield wants the Amulet of Caorunn. It’s made of amber, and so is the amulet the Colonel wears. That’s a connection. If this were my project, I’d find out what oak and rowan might be able to do together before I worried about anything else.”
Her approach was so simple and obvious, we all just kind of stood there sheepishly, until Moira said, “Precisely. That is where I began my preliminary research when we learned about the Amulet of Caorunn in the first place. I think we have all allowed ourselves to become . . . distracted . . . in the face of so many revelations. So, shall we get to it? Gemma? Tori?”
Witch on Third (A Jinx Hamilton Mystery Book 6) Page 16