“Uh-huh, sure,” she murmured. “Good.”
The sage and I had been rocking out to the Dead for several days running. I’d flipped the cassette more than once during that time, playing it over and over again. I found it comforting, and after five nights of nightmares, I could use all the comfort I could get, especially since the dreams I’d been having leading up to my move to Grimm Cove had only gotten more intense upon arrival.
For the past month, I’d become something of an expert at dodging sleep. I knew it wasn’t good for me but until I figured out what was causing the dreams, which had moved to full-on nightmares, I was doing all I could to remain awake and alert.
“Is Brett home yet? Dana mentioned there is a pack meeting tonight. Is he stopping home first, or does he have to go straight to the meeting?” I asked, wondering if Poppy’s new husband, Brett Kasper, was done at work. He was chief of the police in Grimm Cove and was very good at his job. Poppy and Brett had been high school sweethearts and managed to reconnect from the word go when Poppy got to town. Of course, Fate had a little something to do with that. It was how it should be between fated mates.
And that was what Poppy and Brett were. Two halves of one whole. Their souls were forever linked. He was a much better fit for her than Thomas had ever been.
As much as I wanted to hex the man and make vital pieces of his anatomy fall off, Thomas was the reason Poppy had Pepper and Tucker. They were precious, and I’d never wish them away, even if it did leave Thomas in the picture still.
Thomas had been served a hard life lesson by way of the succu-witch. He’d thrown nearly twenty years of marriage down the toilet to be with her, only to find out he’d been nothing more than an easy mark. An in to get at Poppy’s family magik.
The woman had been evil through and through, and she’d put Thomas under her thrall. What I couldn’t figure out was how Thomas had managed to break the thrall before she’d died. None of the other men she’d had under her spell had done so.
The sage on the back table whispered secrets it heard from other flora and fauna in town. I didn’t hear words so much as I felt them wash over me. Pausing in my stirring of the mixture before me, I glanced over my shoulder, past Poppy, at the sage. “Really?”
They seemed steadfast in their stance on the matter, surprising me more. If what they’d heard was correct, Thomas would need to be filled in fully on the supernatural sooner rather than later.
“Really what?” asked Poppy, following my gaze. “What are we looking at? Or who are we looking at?”
I started to answer, and she grabbed my upper arm in a death grip, making me hiss.
“Are there ghosts in here with us?” she asked, fear in her voice.
“Buttercup, you’re going to pull my arm off,” I said, shaking my head. “Honestly, you’d think you’d be used to spirits by now, being that your grandparents are living-challenged.”
“You’d think,” she said with wide eyes. “They don’t count as ghosts. I know them. I trust them. I know they won’t try to eat me.”
With a groan, I lowered my head. “You’re starting to sound like Dana. I told you before that this house is a kind of way station for the wayward in the afterlife. Think about it like Grand Central Station. Lots of different spirits who are coming and going at all hours.”
She held tighter to me. “Was that supposed to be comforting? If so, it wasn’t.”
“Almost all of them are harmless,” I offered, hoping to ease her worries.
“Almost?” she repeated, only this time I was sure she was going to yank off my arm.
“Ouch,” I hissed.
She loosened her grip. “Sorry. Are we alone in here?”
I was about to reassure her when the spirit of a woman who looked to be around the age of fifty entered the green room. She wore a dress that was reminiscent of the mid-1800s but in a dark muted color. Her hair was ink black against her pale skin. Her eyes were a deep green and held a wealth of knowledge behind them.
I felt no emotion from her, which was unusual, as I normally sensed a gamut of them from spirits. I wasn’t sure if this one was simply cold and unfeeling or if she was merely guarded. She glanced in my direction and paused in her movements, watching me as closely as I was watching her.
Reaching up, she touched something around her neck. I only caught the quickest of glimpses, but from my vantage point, it looked to be a beaded necklace of some sort. She turned and strolled out of the green room as quickly and as quietly as she’d entered.
“We’re not alone, are we?” asked Poppy.
I smiled. “We’re alone. Now.”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be used to this. When I spent summers here growing up, I didn’t notice ghosts,” she said.
That made sense. Her grandparents, who were both powerful witches, had been alive then. And with that came their ability to use their powers fully, thus warding off spirits or corralling them to areas where they wouldn’t be seen or heard by Poppy.
She exhaled and released my arm. “I should get dinner started soon. Brett will be hungry when he gets home.”
“He’s told you before you don’t need to have dinner on the table for him. He’s more than willing to cook for you,” I reminded her.
“Have you eaten his food?” she asked, horror showing on her face. “Hard pass.”
I snickered. “He tries. What time is he due home?”
“I’m not sure. He mentioned that something came up at work and then there is the pack meeting tonight. I want to be sure he eats. Plus, he promised to check in on Nonna Wilma after dinner,” said Poppy, lowering her voice a touch at the mention of the older woman. “For a ninety-year-old, she can get in a lot of trouble.”
I hid my laugh, already knowing what was on Poppy’s mind. “To be fair, it’s very hot down here in South Carolina this time of year and that fountain in the square is very refreshing.”
Poppy and I had been picking up some avocado-patterned fabric from Dream Weaver’s Corner when we’d walked out to find Nonna and her friends cooling off in the fountain. I still didn’t see anything wrong with it, but a bunch of uptight folks who happened to be out and about at the time had made a big deal about it all, calling the police and everything.
Brett had arrived, along with his lead detective, Stratton Bright. The duo had taken one look at the fountain full of senior citizens, turned around, got back in Brett’s SUV, and left.
When they returned, it had been with Jeffrey and Dana.
Dana had been less than pleased with her grandmother.
Jeffrey had found the entire event hysterical, going so far as to join them. It won him bonus points with Nonna for sure. Not so many with Dana though.
Poppy stared blankly at me. “Do not even think of stripping down to your skivvies and going for a dip. I’m never going to be able to get the image of Nonna, Rita, Chester, and Peter doing as much out of my head. It’s seared into my brain.”
“Could have been worse,” I countered.
“How so?” she demanded.
“Lou could have tried swimming in it too, and with his oxygen tank, I’m not sure how that would have worked out for him,” I said, touching my chin in thought. “Maybe we should look into getting him scuba gear.”
“Probably best we not,” she countered. “I still don’t know why they decided to go for an afternoon dip in a fountain when the town has a public pool. I know you’re close to Nonna. Did she ever tell you why they did it?”
“No, but only because I didn’t question her about it,” I said, pursing my lips. “I was hurt they didn’t ask me to join them.”
“Oh, Marcy. Whatever will we do with you?” Curling her lip, Poppy stared off at the far wall of the green room. “I just got a mental picture of Lou in his skivvies.”
“Weird, he strikes me as a free-baller. It’s always the quiet ones that surprise you. You really think he wears skivvies?” I asked, continuing with my task at hand. Tendrils of my hair came loose from the braids I
had it in and fell into my face.
“Here,” said Poppy, brushing them out of my eyes before tucking them into my braids once more. “Better?”
“Much. Thank you,” I returned.
“How about we never again speak of free balls and Lou in the same sentence, okay?” she asked.
With a shrug, I nodded. “Okay, but I can ask him if you change your mind and want to know.”
“I won’t,” she said fast, she shook her head adamantly, causing her long dark hair to dance around her face. She had on a pair of wide-leg, loose-fitting pants that were made of dark orange material. The off-white shirt she’d paired with it was one I’d made her years ago for her birthday.
I’d taken to making my own clothing when I realized that manufactures didn’t like bothering with women my size. To most of the fashion industry, women who were over a size ten didn’t exist, nor did they deserve anything in the way of cute articles of clothing. And while I loved flowers, I didn’t love the idea that everything in my wardrobe needed to be black or covered in obscenely large floral patterns—which seemed to be the prevailing theory among fashion people. As if wrapping me in a bed of giant roses was going to somehow detract from my size.
At last check, which had been years ago, I wore anything from a size fourteen to a size eighteen, depending on the manufacturer. Since women’s sizing in fashion had less predictability than a Magic 8-Ball, I took that with a grain of salt and simply made my own clothes.
Turns out, the skill set came in handy for making gifts for others as well.
“You still have that top?” I asked as I stirred the liquid in the double boiler in front of me. The small cooking area in the green room was proving to be a favorite spot for me in the house.
She touched her shirt and smiled. “I love it. It’s so comfortable. You should get back into sewing more. I know you made the skirt you have on, which I love, but you should make a ton more things. People would buy them.”
“Dana looked horrified by everything I gave her,” I said with a small laugh, remembering how hard Dana had tried to school her face when she’d held up a long peasant skirt I’d done for her. I thought it suited her perfectly, from the deep red of the material to the black ravens that were printed on it, looking to be in flight. The minute I’d seen the material for sale from a vendor at a witch festival where I’d had a booth, I’d thought of Dana.
Sadly, she did not get the same warm and fuzzy feeling when she’d lain eyes upon it.
“She’s never really gotten our style.” Poppy clasped her lips together quickly as she looked me over. “Speaking of which, are you wearing a bikini top?”
I glanced down at my chest because I genuinely didn’t remember what I had on. As I saw that it was indeed wearing a bikini top, I nodded. “I am.”
Poppy’s lips twitched. “Is it me or is it crocheted?”
Again, I nodded. “It is. My friend Alister made it for me.”
“He’s the painter in Los Angeles?” she inquired, her voice rising slightly. “Right?”
“Photographer,” I corrected. “We took classes and learned to crochet together.”
“And he made you that?” she asked, her mouth drawing down.
I grabbed the elastic waist of my long olive-green skirt—made from the avocado-patterned fabric I’d bought—and pulled it outward, showing her the matching bikini bottoms he’d made me as well. “It’s a set.”
“I’m not sure Alister made it in your size.” She licked her lip before sucking it in. “It’s kind of small up top.”
“That’s odd. He measured me like ten times before he started it. And he took a bunch of pictures of me nude to be sure he’d get it all right,” I said, raising my shoulders and letting them relax again. “It’s really comfortable. If bras were like this, I’d wear them.”
She covered her eyes for a brief moment with her hand. “Sweetie, he had you pose naked and took a bunch of measurements of your breasts so he could make you that?”
“Yes.” I stirred the mixture in front of me more, not really understanding what the big deal was. “How else was he going to do it? Besides, the deal we’d made when I asked him to take the crochet classes with me was that he’d get to make me whatever he wanted, and I’d wear it. I never thought it would turn out so nice and be so comfortable. Makes a great top, don’t you think?”
She blinked. “Sweetie, are you aware that you can see through it a bit?”
I stared down at my breasts again. “Really?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
I paused in my stirring, thinking harder on the matter. I had a lightbulb moment. “That might explain why your husband spent the morning walking past me with his eyes closed. I thought he was practicing moving around the house in the event of a power outage or trying to tap into a sixth sense. I do it all the time. Poppy, can you do me a favor and show him your breasts? I’m not sure he’s seen any live and up close with the way he reacted to them. Weird, since I know the two of you do the dirty. Do you wear a shirt the whole time? Awkward.”
“I’ll flash him later.” She chuckled. “While we’re on the topic of men seeing ta-tas, has my son seen you in that top yet?”
“Yes. Tucker was helping me put my laundry away and saw it then,” I said. “He told me I should wear it more. It was his suggestion that I wear it with a skirt and that I didn’t need to cover it with a shirt. He has great fashion sense.”
She groaned. “Yes, he does. He and I will be having a talk about his keen eye later.”
“It’s always good to be encouraging,” I said.
Tucker picked then to enter the green room. He was biting into an apple while wearing a Star Wars shirt and a pair of baggy tan shorts. His dark hair hung just past his ears and flopped into his face as he came to a stop. “What are you two working on in here? World domination potions? Please say yes. That would be so cool.”
“Nothing that exciting,” I said.
He grinned wider. “Marcy, the extra cell phone that we’re not allowed to call yours, but is totally yours, keeps ringing. I hope you don’t mind. I gave in and answered it.”
I tensed, already knowing who had been calling it.
Stratton.
I’d gone out of my way not to talk to him for the past two days because my gut said he wouldn’t be happy hearing what Dana and I had planned for the night. I wasn’t sure why he’d take exception to me going to the Van Helsing estate, but I trusted my intuition.
“Stratton?”
Tucker watched me closely. “He pestering you to go out with him like that one cocky-dude?”
“Cocky-dude?” I repeated.
“Austin,” answered Tucker. “Rubs me the wrong way. And what’s his deal? He comes by here daily.”
I hadn’t really thought about it, but Tucker was right. Austin Van Helsing did stop by the Proctor House each day.
Tucker groaned. “You didn’t notice, did you?”
I shook my head.
“Seriously, I’m not sure how you’ve managed on your own all these years,” he said, his voice coated in nothing but love. “You’re kind of hopeless, right, Mom?”
Poppy centered her attention on him, her gaze narrowing quickly. “Marcy was just telling me about how good you are with women’s fashion, and how you suggested she wear that bikini top with nothing over it. That so?”
Tucker paled and lifted his hands in the air. “Mom, come on. I mean, look at her. Can you blame a guy for recommending it?”
“A guy, no,” she said firmly. “My son, yes.”
“Mom, I’m pretty sure my guy card would have been revoked if I’d have let that slide,” he pleaded. “I’m just doing my part to help mankind. Emphasis on the man part.”
Befuddled, I stared between them. “I think it’s wonderful that he’s quick to help others. Good for you, Tucker. Have you thought about changing your major to fashion?”
Poppy sighed.
Tucker took another bite of his apple and grinned mischievousl
y. “No, but I’m strongly considering it, seeing how well the top worked. I have awesome instincts.”
Poppy pointed at him. “Off with you.”
He laughed, pivoted on his heels, and hightailed it back toward the kitchen. “I’m going to find Pepper and annoy her.”
“Hard to believe he’s an adult now,” said Poppy.
“It’s hard to believe any of us are,” I returned.
She stared in the direction of the kitchen. “I blinked, and he was a grown man. It all went by so fast. Seems like just yesterday I was holding him in my arms, telling him he didn’t need to be afraid of the dark.”
“I’m not sure that was the best advice. Have you seen what lives in the dark?” I asked, meaning it.
“I know, right?” She laughed as she went to the molds of soap that I’d filled earlier and lifted a sheet of wax paper that was on top. “You were busy today. Was that you I heard up most of the night too, or were my children keeping vampire hours again?”
I suppressed a smile.
She touched her chin. “You know, that saying didn’t hold a lot of weight before moving back to Grimm Cove. Now that I know a vampire, it’s way more impactful.”
I chuckled, hoping she’d move to the next topic of discussion and not ask me about being up all night again. I didn’t want to let on about the disturbing dreams and sleepless nights I’d been having. I’d much rather talk about the vampire we both knew who wasn’t trying to kill us.
Bram Van Helsing.
Since he’d begun appearing in my dreams in the last month, battling the demonic forces at work there, he’d been on my mind a lot. In the nightmares, he’d go rounds with my ex-husband Don, along with other men I didn’t know. The battles were epic, and while each was different, they ultimately were the same—good versus evil.
Chapter Six
Bram
Music that was hardly his normal taste filled the room as Bram stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows in his study that were treated to block UV light. A set of French doors gave him quick access to the outside, should he require it. They too were safe for him to be near during daylight hours. He stared out the window, waiting for the sun to lower over the sprawling grounds of the estate that he’d taken to thinking of as home over the years, despite being only one of many properties he owned and spent time in.
Spellcasting with a Chance of Spirits: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Romance Novel (Grimm Cove Book 3) Page 7