The look she gave me said she didn’t believe me.
I wasn’t a very good liar.
But telling her that I’d been dreaming of my ex-husband, some mysterious robed men, and Bram Van Helsing—the vampire we now knew—wouldn’t go over well. It would cause undue worry and concern. She had enough on her plate.
She inhaled deeply over one of the molds of soap. “Wow. It smells great too. What’s all in it?”
“Sweet almond oil, shea butter, olive oil, and a few other things,” I responded as I grated in beeswax to the mixture in the double boiler. I was happy to be off the topic of me and not sleeping.
“Yum,” she said, her gaze going to the boom box as the next song by the Grateful Dead came on. “Where did you find that thing? I haven’t seen it in years.”
“It was in the attic. There is a treasure trove of blasts from the past up there. Got the tape there as well. I found an old record player up there too,” I said. “And a bunch of albums. Did you know your grandparents were big into John Denver? I love him.”
Amusement softened her features. “Yes. I remember Grandpa playing his music a lot. And we all know you like John Denver. He’s all you walked around humming and singing last month.”
I smiled. “I’m on the Grateful Dead right now. I thought it was going to be another Richard Marx month for me because his songs were stuck in my head last week, but that has passed. I’m not even sure why he’d popped into my head to start with. He knows it’s not his month.”
She looked to be fighting a laugh. “The odds of me getting you to revisit your Wham! phase next are what?”
My gaze slid to her and my expression grew serious. “You know that come summer, I love to move to Phil Collins and then Duran Duran. I can’t just change the way of things. There is an order to everything, even if it seems random at times.”
“Everything about you seems random. You’re always throwing caution to the wind,” she said. “Go nuts and be daring. How about we abandon the Dead for Bowie?”
“Are you going to dress like Ziggy Stardust with me this time? It was weird that I was the only one last time I did it,” I said.
“Yeah, that was the weird part,” she said with a slight eye roll. “Almost as weird as you going shopping in the wizard getup that Dana got us for the Lord of the Rings movie marathon.”
I blinked. “What was weird about wearing that shopping?”
“Nothing, hon,” she said with a snort. “So, about the music in here.”
I narrowed my gaze on her. “Are you angling to get me to stop playing the Dead?”
“Maybe,” she admitted. “Is it working?”
“Nope. The sage and I like it. Get over it. Want to dig through the records in the attic with me later? There are so many amazing ones up there that I nearly wet myself. I may need to get myself a set of vaginal weights. One can never work their pelvic floor muscles too much. Are you still using yours? Oh, that reminds me, want to do some yoga with me in the morning?”
“Sure. I’ll do yoga with you in the morning.” She touched her lips, as if she was trying to avoid laughing loudly. Then, she took her long dark hair and wound it into a self-contained, messy bun on top of her head. Hiking up the sleeves of her top, she eyed me and went for one of the many aprons we had hanging on a set of hooks near the door that led to the greenhouse. “What can I do to help?”
“You can relax a little before you start that dinner you insist you’re going to make,” I said.
She didn’t budge.
I sighed, seeing it was pointless and that she wasn’t about to listen to reason. “Fine. Want to add the coconut oil?”
She jumped at the chance, which wasn’t a surprise. She was newly pregnant and her husband—or mate, depending on who you asked—was on a kick where he wanted her to take it easy. I wasn’t sure how many pregnant women Brett had been around, but if his train of thought going toward his wife needing to sit very still for nine months was any indication, the number was low. “Brett still worrying too much?”
Her eyes widened. “Ohmygod, yes. Before he left for work this morning, I found him trying to bribe Tucker to make sure I stayed off my feet.”
I laughed softly. “He means well, buttercup.”
She groaned. “I know, but enlisting my son in a plot to get me to sit still is kind of annoying. But you’re right. I know it comes from a place of love. That’s why it’s hard to get mad at him, but I didn’t sit for my first pregnancy, I’m not going to start now. I have a clean bill of health from the doctor, and he even told Brett I’d be fine and to stop worrying. Not that it helped any.”
“Want me to make some more calming tea?” I asked, thinking back to the batch I’d made a month ago.
Travis, a packmate of Brett’s, had been assigned to protect Poppy and me. Since we were grown women who didn’t require a babysitter, we’d been less than pleased. Travis was a handsome, strapping wolf-shifter who had taken his duty very seriously even though he’d been injured days prior in the succu-witch attack.
In order to slip away, Poppy and I had needed to be creative. That was when the calming tea had come into play. I’d made a batch and we’d given some to Travis—leaving off the bit about it helping him relax (or sleep, depending on who you asked and how much you ingested). Once Travis had passed out, we’d secured him with bindings and headed out to help Dana.
Brett had been less than thrilled to see his mate show up, but we’d brought more of the tea for just that reason. It had been Dana who’d protested, saying we shouldn’t drug our friends and family. My vote was still on serving it to Brett daily.
“What, precisely, was in the last batch? I’m almost scared to ask,” she said, biting her inner cheek.
I considered telling her and then thought better of it. “Best you not know.”
“Plausible deniability?” she questioned.
I nodded.
“Would it have made Brett relax?” There was a note of hope in her voice.
“If by relax, you mean sleep for a few hours, then yes.”
She appeared to consider it. “A little tea wouldn’t hurt him, right?”
“Stratton ended up taking the first batch home with him. Says it works like a charm to help him sleep at night. He has a lot of demons. Most of them are inner ones. Others, not so much.”
She nudged me slightly as I turned off the burner. “You two have been spending a lot of time together. I’ve seen you with him every day since you met him. Something you want to share?”
Perplexed, I regarded her before dumping the mixture from the double boiler into the pitcher on the counter to my right. From there, I used the pitcher to pour the mixture into its final containers. It gave me more control. “I’m not following.”
She groaned. “Marcy, you and Stratton have spent time together over the last month. He’s very attractive. Don’t tell me that escaped your notice.”
It was hard to miss just how handsome he was. “We have a nice time together. There really isn’t much more to tell beyond that. But yes, looking at him is no hardship.”
“Yes,” she said with a knowing grin. “No hardship at all.”
“Does Brett know you find a detective who works for him extra yummy?” I asked.
“He does now,” said a deep voice from the door to the kitchen. A tall, buff man dressed in a white uniform shirt and black uniform pants stood there, filling the doorway. His dark hair was slightly unruly and had the starts of white running through it. His badge announced him as the chief of police.
“Hi, Brett,” I said as he glanced at me, gulped loudly, and looked upward. The man still had issues with boobs. “Now would be a good time to flash him, Poppy.”
Poppy pretended to be stunned her mate was in the green room with us. I strongly suspected she’d sensed him there before he’d made himself known. “Oh no. The secret is out. Stratton is a hottie.”
Brett grumbled from his spot near the entrance to the main kitchen. “No. He’s not.”
/>
Poppy and I shared a look before both saying, “Yes, he is.”
I paused and glanced around the room, feeling as if we’d done and said that very thing before. “Strange. Déjà vu. That always weirds me out.”
“At least we know you can, in fact, get weirded out,” said Poppy with a grin. “Dana will be happy to know. Pretty sure she thinks nothing fazes you.”
“I learned a long time ago not to sweat the small stuff,” I said, meaning every word of it. “My past will make anyone realize there is no point in it.”
The next thing I knew, Poppy was hugging me against her. Her emotions practically knocked me over. I knew she didn’t like thinking about my childhood and what it must have been like for me, yet she did it often. She also got emotional whenever the topic of my ex came up. Her pity wasn’t needed. But I appreciated that she cared enough for it to bother her.
Brett came to my rescue, helping to pry his hormonal wife from me. He did so without managing to look at me once. It was as if my boobs were toxic and he was determined to stay far away from them.
It was cute and laughable.
For a shifter, he was very sexually repressed.
He gathered Poppy in his arms and drew her close before dipping his head and kissing her passionately. It was as it should be with a couple—fiery.
He growled into her mouth as he rubbed against her.
Her hands went to his chest, and she turned her head slightly, breaking the kiss. She gave him a knowing stare and glanced at me.
I shrugged. “Don’t mind me. But if you’re going to have smoldering primal sex in here, be careful. There is hot liquid everywhere at the moment. Unless that’s your kink. If so, carry on. I’ll just be over here, working on the salve. Want me to change the song to a better make-out track? I think I spotted some Carpenters albums in the attic. Always puts me in the mood for sex. Want me to go find them? ‘Close to You’ fires me right up. I’d been steadfast on leaving on the Grateful Dead but for the sake of sex, I’m willing to put on ‘Close to You’ for a few runs.”
Poppy laughed and buried her face against Brett’s massive chest.
He even chuckled. “Uh, no. Thanks, though. The Carpenters kind of don’t have the same effect on me.”
“Really?” I asked, stunned the song didn’t make him horny. Worked magik for me.
Poppy laughed more.
Brett seemed at a loss for words.
“How was your day?” I asked. “Did you arrest anyone interesting? Are there any new serial killers in town? Did anything go poof?”
A question formed on Poppy’s face. “Things going poof?”
“Master vampires, succu-witches, and whatever else might do it,” I said with a vigorous nod. “I’m sure there are more. We should make a list. You be in charge of it. I’ll only lose it.”
Brett licked his lips. “Nothing went poof. Quiet day.”
A tiny trickle of knowledge came over me, and I glanced off to the side, knowing it was the ether feeding me information. “Funny how quickly that can change.”
Brett tipped his head. “Dana’s pulling in. I can hear her car.”
“Handy,” I said with a smile, before checking to be sure everything on the stovetop was shut off.
Poppy vanished from the room and reappeared quickly with one of Brett’s old T-shirts. “Here. Put this on.”
Brett laughed.
“Why?” I asked.
She gave me a pointed stare. “Just do it. Please.”
With a shrug, I did. I went for my bag near the door, only to find Burgess was there, sitting on top, looking eager to go for a ride. I pursed my lips. “Sorry, but you can’t come. Dana has a strict no-Burgess-in-her-car policy.”
He cocked his head to the side, disappointment evident.
Poppy and Brett were deep in conversation, and I thought for a moment on how to best handle Burgess’s desire to go for a ride too.
The spirit of the woman in the period dress returned, strolling through the green room as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She walked right through Brett, who paused in his discussion with Poppy and did a full-body shiver. He then went back to speaking with his mate.
The woman walked closer to me. She met my gaze and surprised me by tapping her chest before winking.
When I realized that she’d just solved the problem of how to take Burgess with me, I smiled wide and returned the wink.
She vanished into thin air just before I lifted the T-shirt Poppy made me put on and nodded to Burgess.
Goddess love that little guy, because he read my mind.
He leapt onto my skirt, held tight, and scrambled up me, rushing right for my cleavage and settling in. He somehow managed to get lost in a sea of boobs and position himself in a spot that didn’t give me a third breast.
Impressive.
Granted, he was nowhere near the size of most Southern fox squirrels but that didn’t mean he was as tiny as a mouse. In many ways, he reminded me a lot of a chipmunk but with an extra-bushy tail, some of which poked out from between my breasts.
I pushed his tail in more.
Lowering the shirt, I squirmed around to be sure all was well and grinned from ear to ear. “Perfect.”
“Marcy?” asked Poppy. “What are you doing?”
I shook my hips. “Dancing.”
She nodded with a frozen expression on her face that said she was sure I’d lost my marbles.
Chapter Eight
Marcy
“That’s it,” said Dana, shifting gears. “Give me more, baby.”
She wasn’t talking to me. She was giving her sports car words of encouragement and, apparently, a pet name.
I’d have judged her, but I’d had a squirrel hidden between my breasts when she’d picked me up—not to mention, I talked to dead people on a regular basis, listened to trees and flowers when they had messages for me, and read people’s auras.
My area for casting stones was basically nonexistent.
I kept my hands planted on the dashboard of Dana’s sports car as she sped down the private road leading to her father’s estate. It had old-style lampposts on both sides of it, spaced accordingly. The private road cut through a thick section of woods. I wasn’t sure how much land the estate consisted of, but we’d been driving on the private road for several minutes and so far, there was no sign of the house yet.
“How much property does he own?” I asked, grabbing my bag, which was at my feet, with one hand to keep it from falling over before I braced myself on the dash once more.
Burgess thumped around twice in my bag, indicating he’d not been thrilled with the twists and turns either. He’d been a good boy and hid in my top while Dana had done her version of a bag search (which I’m pretty sure violated my personal rights, but seeing as how she was an attorney and had done the deed, I’m not sure she cared). The second Dana had left me to get in the car, walking around to the driver’s side door, Burgess had made his great escape from my shirt to my bag.
As Dana continued to increase her speed, regret for allowing him to come at all settled over me. The car wasn’t safe for me to be in, let alone him.
“I’m not sure how much land Bram owns in total,” said Dana, thankfully none the wiser that we had a stowaway. “There was some information about some of his holdings at my office, but when I opened them, I got overwhelmed. He owns a lot of properties, companies, and so on. Made my head spin.” She shifted gears once more, punching up the speed.
I wasn’t sure what the car’s top end was, but I had a feeling if left unchecked, Dana was on a mission to find out.
A small squeak escaped me, and I pushed back in my seat, thankful I was buckled in. I wasn’t sure how she managed to make my stomach drop but she did. With the top down, the wind whipped at my face and hair, ripping it from the braids in various spots. I’d have made an attempt to stop it but that would have meant letting go of the dash.
Burgess picked then to peek out from the bag at my feet. His tiny e
yes were wide and if the vibe coming from him was right, he wasn’t a fan of Dana’s driving either.
It was hard to blame him.
Thankfully, Dana was too busy pulling her version of race car driving to notice Burgess. I was torn between being thankful she could easily outrun the authorities should the need ever arise and scared for my life.
My gaze met Burgess’s and I shook my head slightly, mouthing “not now.”
He went back to his tucked-away spot, no doubt fearing for his life as well.
From this point forward, I planned to walk anywhere I wanted to go rather than ride with Dana. Surviving a succu-witch attack, followed closely by Dragos and his exploding ghouls, seemed like a drop in the bucket next to living through her driving.
The trees thinned somewhat before giving way to six-foot ornate iron fencing. The posts were done in what looked to be limestone with gas lanterns on top. The yard was immaculate, and set far back from the road was a massive home. It was hard to avoid being impressed. Even someone like myself, who didn’t put a lot of stock in material possessions, was caught up in the visual the estate presented.
It was a little like stepping back in time. Seeing a horse and carriage wouldn’t have seemed out of the realm of possibility with the attention to detail the home had.
Dana turned the car onto a drive that led to more iron gates. The private road continued though, making me wonder again just how big the property was and what else was on it.
“Is it me or could Hollywood film a period drama here?” asked Dana, seeming less than impressed.
“It’s not just you.”
The keypad for the gates was hidden in a way that made it look antique.
Dana groaned. “He better have modern plumbing. I have to pee. I swear I pee all the time now.”
I bit my lip to keep from telling her why that was. She’d figure out soon enough that she was expecting. I didn’t want to be the messenger. “I’m sure he does.”
She mercifully took the driveway a bit slower than she had the road. That being said, we’d get a ticket if we were anywhere else. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure she was going to stop at the end of the circular turnoff near the front of the mansion. She came in at a high rate of speed and then somehow managed to bring the vehicle to a standstill without incident or any tires squealing.
Spellcasting with a Chance of Spirits: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Romance Novel (Grimm Cove Book 3) Page 10