Great Balls of Fury

by Annabel Chase

  “Not great,” I said. I gave my mother a pointed look.

  “That’s too bad,” my mother said. “Looks like someone had a good time last night.”

  “I heard you gave the new chief a lap dance,” Grandma said.

  I folded my arms. “I did not such thing.” I paused and looked at my mother. “Did I?”

  “No,” my mother said. “But I would’ve paid good money to see that.”

  “I would’ve recorded it on my phone and uploaded it to YouTube,” Grandma added.

  “Esther, don’t be cruel,” Aunt Thora chastised her.

  “That ship sailed before I was born,” I said.

  “Stupidity is what happens when you’ve had a skinful before nine o’clock,” Grandma said.

  “A skinful?” Verity echoed.

  I groaned. “It means enough alcohol to make me drunk.”

  Verity understood. “Ah. Urban dictionary again?”

  I gave her a thumbs up.

  “I can give you something for the nausea,” Verity offered. “Grandma, would you mind taking over Ryan’s feeding?”

  “I don’t see why the kid can’t feed himself yet,” Grandma grumbled. Still, she took the spoon from Verity and held it a few inches from Ryan’s mouth. “Can you say diabolical?”

  “Of course he can’t,” Verity said. She rifled through the cabinet and retrieved a packet of powder. “Mix this with cold water.”

  “Is it a druid mixture?” I asked.

  “It’s one of my specialties,” Verity said. “Your brother’s needed it on more than one occasion.” She cast a knowing glance over her shoulder in the direction of my mother. “When the situation warranted it.”

  “Why are you looking at me?” My mother was the picture of innocence.

  “Because you spelled me last night,” I said. “Admit it.”

  “I admit no such thing,” my mother said. She transferred the bread to a cooling rack. It was a perfect loaf. Then again, she’d always preferred baking to mothering. She had more control over the ingredients.

  Verity mixed the powder in a cup of cold water and handed it to me. “This should fix you up.”

  “Thanks, but will it fix what happened with the new chief?” I asked. I downed the concoction and was pleased to note that it tasted slightly minty.

  “That’s on you,” Grandma said. “If you weren’t hell-bent on making a fool of yourself, you wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

  I rounded on her. “Where do you get the idea that I’m hell-bent on making a fool of myself?”

  “You always have been.” Grandma shoved another spoonful of food into Ryan’s mouth before he could object. “Dating that no-good human…”

  “Tanner?” I asked. My voice went a few octaves higher than intended at the mention of my cheating high school boyfriend.

  “Speaking of Tanner, why on earth were you socializing with Sassafras Persimmons last night?” my mother asked.

  Hmm. It hadn’t occurred to me that a benefit of befriending Sassy would be annoying my family. Suddenly, more time with the bitchy blonde seemed like a good idea.

  “That girl’s had more lays than a potato chip bag,” Grandma said.

  “Grandma!” Verity said. “Olivia is right in the family room on the sofa.”

  “What’s a lay?” Olivia called from the adjacent room.

  “What hens do,” Verity replied smoothly. “It’s about eggs.”

  “And ovaries,” Grandma added.

  “Esther, that’s enough,” Aunt Thora said softly.

  My grandmother’s sister was often the only one who could get through to her. It was a blessing that she lived here.

  “If you don’t like what I have to say, you can always move out,” Grandma told Verity. She grabbed a cloth and wiped Ryan’s messy face.

  “No one is moving out,” my mother said. “Not until it’s time.”

  “These kids are noisy,” Grandma said.

  “You’re the noisiest one in this house,” Verity shot back. The color immediately drained from her face and I knew she was regretting opening her mouth. Although Grandma was unlikely to seek revenge on Verity, she’d be more than willing to retaliate against my brother. Last night was bad, but I knew they were capable of a lot worse. When I was fifteen, Grandma spelled me so that every time I tried to say something nice, I burped instead. They’d been trying to beat the good out of me for a long time.

  “I told everyone the chief looked young,” Aunt Thora said, deftly changing the subject. “I ran into him when I was leaving the hair salon yesterday. He was very friendly.” She cut a lemon and dropped a slice into her water.

  “I don’t think he’s a day over thirty,” I said.

  “And he’s hot,” my mother chimed in. “His looks suggest more TV cop that reads scripted lines than actual chief of police with investigative skills.”

  “That’s offensive,” Grandma said.

  “To whom?” my mother asked.

  “To attractive people like me,” Grandma said. “I’m living proof that you can be good-looking and ridiculously intelligent.”

  I groaned. “Or just ridiculous.”

  “What?” Grandma said, shaking the dirty spoon at me. “You should be grateful you favor me and not your father’s side of the family.”

  “Grandma’s right,” my mother said. “Chief Fox wouldn’t have been eyeing you the way he did if you looked like your father.”

  I hesitated. “He was eyeing me?” Likely because I was a drunken idiot who’d mistaken him for a stripper.

  “Like Moyer eyed that tiara during the gay pride parade,” Grandma said.

  “How is Uncle Moyer?” I asked.

  “Find out for yourself by stopping by,” Grandma replied. “It’ll give Tomas a five-minute break from talking about himself.”

  “Don’t speak ill of my son-in-law,” Aunt Thora said. “Tomas is lovely.”

  “For an angel hybrid,” Grandma replied. She’d never forgiven her demon nephew for marrying a human-angel hybrid. Tomas is no typical angel, though. His human tendencies tend to be in control most of the time—well, the vices anyway.

  “I’m going to shower,” I said. “I reek of the Cheese Wheel.”

  “More like desperation from the way you were throwing yourself at the new chief.” Grandma dropped the spoon into the sink and sniffed the freshly baked loaf of bread. “You didn’t add enough cinnamon.”

  “Of course I did,” my mother said, appalled by the suggestion.

  I took the opportunity to escape during their argument. It was like letting the T-Rex tangle with the Velociraptors at the end of the original Jurassic Park. No need for me to stick around and witness the resulting carnage.

  By the time I showered and dressed, I felt more like myself again, thanks to Verity’s cure. I still wasn’t sure which spell had been inflicted upon me, but at least it was over now. If only the damage were, too.

  I debated whether to try to make peace with the chief or pretend last night never happened. Chances were good that I’d be crossing paths with him on a semi-regular basis. It was probably best to take the high road.

  “Has anyone seen Princess Buttercup?” I asked, returning to the kitchen on my way out.

  “She was in the garden earlier,” Aunt Thora said. She glanced up from the cookbook she was reading at the table. “She loves the morning sunlight.”

  “Would you make sure she doesn’t leave the property?” I asked. “I don’t want to freak out any of the neighbors.”

  “The humans won’t see her for what she is, honey,” my mother said.

  “Still, a huge Great Dane running around the cul-de-sac might still unsettle a few people,” I said. Like Mrs. Paulson.

  “Not to worry, I’ll keep an eye on her,” Aunt Thora said.

  “Thank you. You’re the best.”

  As I sailed out the door, I heard my grandmother say, “No, I think you’ll find I’m the best.”

  I drove through the residential se
ction until I hit Feta Way and then took that into downtown. I snagged a spot on Pecorino Place and was feeling mighty proud of myself for about two seconds before my luck changed right in the middle of Pimento Plaza.

  “Wow. Eden, you’re really back.”

  My heart thumped wildly in my chest at the sound of his voice and I was sure that even the statue of Arthur Davenport, one of the town founders, could hear it.

  Slowly, I turned to face him. “Hey, Tanner. It’s been a long time.” Not long enough. He looked the same. Maybe ten pounds heavier, which in his case was a good thing. He’d been long and lanky in high school and now he was more filled out.

  He observed me from head to toe and a slow smile emerged. “A few years away and you come back looking like a rock star.”

  I glanced down at my jeans and light purple top. Rock star’s casual accountant, maybe, but not rock star. “Um, thanks. I was out with Sassy and Clara last night.” I waited to gauge his reaction.

  His smile didn’t waver. “Yeah, she told me about your drunken run-in with the new chief. Sorry I missed it, but I was out of town. I travel a lot for work.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’m an international man of mystery now.”

  “You sell medical equipment in the Mid-Atlantic region.”

  His smile faded. “I guess you and Sassy did some catching up.”

  “We did.” And it wasn’t as terrible as I’d feared, not that I would tell Tanner. He’d likely take it as an invitation for a three-way.

  “I never stopped thinking about you, you know,” Tanner said. “After we broke up and you left town.” He pinned his soulful gaze on me and I pushed away the butterflies in my stomach. The physical response was nothing more than a habit, like muscle memory. I wasn’t even attracted to Tanner, not anymore.

  A hand shifted to my hip. “Were you thinking about me when you were with Sassy? Because that’s horribly disrespectful—to both of us.”

  Tanner offered a playful smile. “You’re still upset about that? It was so long ago.”

  “You’re dating Sassy now,” I said. “If you never stopped thinking about me…Well, you do the math.”

  Tanner’s brow furrowed. “What kind of math?”

  I’d forgotten how dim Tanner was. “It was a pleasure running into you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  He latched onto my arm as I tried to walk away. “I hear you’re a big time FBI agent now. That’s pretty cool. I always knew you were destined for greatness.”

  Any further up my derriere and he’d be examining my tonsils. “I live here now, Tanner. We have plenty of time to take a stroll down memory lane.”

  “And hopefully make new ones.” He tried to fix me with that soulful look again, but I dodged his gaze. At least I knew he was same old Tanner. No need for a second chance, not that I would’ve considered it. It would’ve driven my family crazy, which was a huge bonus, but it wasn’t worth it to me.

  “See you around,” I said. I continued to the police station where I hoped to find Chief Fox so I could get my apology out of the way and restore my dignity.

  I stopped in front of the secretary’s desk and was surprised to see that Judith Stanton still worked here. The woman had to be pushing eighty.

  “Mrs. Stanton, do you remember me?”

  Judith peered at me from behind oversized glasses with gold trim. They were pretty fancy for the eighty-year-old secretary at the police station.

  “The Fury girl. Edith.”

  “Eden,” I said.

  “Right. That’s what I said.” She shook her head in annoyance.

  “I’d like to see the chief if he’s available,” I said.

  “Chief O’Neill isn’t here. He’s dead.” She clucked her tongue. “Such a tragedy when they’re taken from us so young.”

  I wanted to point out that Chief O’Neill wasn’t that young, but I decided to bite my tongue. “I mean the new chief. Sawyer Fox.”

  Judith appeared momentarily confused. “Oh, the hot guy. Yeah, he’s in there.” She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. “I’ll let him know you’re here.” She paused. “Why are you here?”

  “Official business,” I said, and walked straight through the open doorway of the chief’s office.

  Sawyer Fox sat at his desk, reviewing a file. He glanced up when he heard my footsteps. “It’s only ten and my day’s looking up.”

  Why did he have to look gorgeous when I was sober and spell-free? I was hoping last night’s view of him was the result of magic or cocktail vision.

  “Hello Chief Foxy.” I halted mid-step, my cheeks burning. “I mean, Fox. Chief Fox.” What was wrong with me? Did my mother slip something into Verity’s powder?

  Chief Fox grinned. “I hope you brought a roll of ones for my G-string. You owe me from last night.”

  I opened my mouth but no words came out. This wasn’t how I expected my apology to go.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “That wasn’t very professional of me.”

  I held up a hand. “That’s okay. I deserve it. Last night was not my best moment.”

  He chuckled. “Well, it seemed like a pretty good one from where I was standing.”

  “I’d had a few drinks…”

  “You don’t say.” His smile was having an effect on me—and by effect, I mean I felt compelled to throw myself across his desk and ask to see his G-string.

  “It’s my fault, really. I should have realized people would be drinking in honor of Chief O’Neill. I shouldn’t have come in uniform and expected to conduct police business. It was poor judgment.”

  “Well, now that we’ve agreed we were both at fault…” I started to pivot.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “Sit down and we can have the conversation I wanted to have last night.”

  Against my better judgment, I stayed put.

  “You’re from here originally and a federal agent,” the chief said. “I thought you’d be a good resource for this case. I’m brand new, stepping into some pretty big shoes, from what I hear. She might open up more if she sees a friendly face.”

  “She who?”

  “The chief’s ex-wife, Margaret.”

  “What about Sean...Deputy Guthrie? He worked with the chief for years. He knows Margaret even better than I do.”

  “I’m getting information from him, too, but you’re the one I’d like to pump…” He averted his gaze. “To get an insider’s view.”

  Well, at least I wasn’t alone in the fool-making category. “You’ve got a thing against gingers?” I asked. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. They are soulless spawns of Satan, after all.”

  Chief Fox chuckled. “Is that so? I’ll have to be on my guard around him then. Now, if I can just ask you…” He shuffled papers around the desk, looking a little lost. I understood the feeling well, having been plonked down at Pidcock’s messy desk recently.

  “About the chief’s ex-wife,” I reminded him.

  He stopped searching the papers and looked at me with relief in those sea-green eyes. “Yes, Margaret.”

  “They divorced years ago,” I said. “There’s no animosity between them.” Unlike my parents. At least Chief O’Neill and Margaret were human and couldn’t curse each other. Supernaturals had the ability to take toxic relationships to another level.

  “Did you know that she’s still listed as the beneficiary on his life insurance policy?”

  That I did not know. “Is she aware of that?”

  “If not, she’ll know soon enough,” Chief Fox said. “I’d like to get a sense of her knowledge before the lawyer gets to her.”

  “Smart. Who is the chief’s lawyer?”

  “Jayson Swift.”

  Ugh. I was surprised the chief would’ve chosen a shark like Jayson to handle his affairs.

  “I can tell by your expression that you’re not overly fond of the lawyer in question.” A grin tugged at his lips.

  “He’s not one I would choose to represent my interests.”
<
br />   “I think your interests are well represented.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

  “I met some of your family last night,” he said. “Your aunt’s sweet, by the way.”

  “Great-aunt,” I said. “Aunt Thora is my grandmother’s sister.”

  “Right. She’s the one who answered the door last night when I brought you home.”

  I closed my eyes, mortified that I’d forgotten to mention it, probably because I was keen to forget the whole thing. “Thanks for that. You didn’t have to be the designated driver for me.”

  “It was a fun introduction to the residential section of town,” he said. “You gave me a running commentary on your neighbors the whole way there.”

  My mouth suddenly became dry. “Did I?”

  “Apparently, Mrs. Paulson is nosy and I should disregard everything she says. She likes to rant about fornication probably because she’s never experienced it.” He winked. “That’s a direct quote.”

  I wanted to melt into the chair. “I’m sure she’s not an eighty-year-old virgin.” Almost sure.

  “You also felt the need to mention that she was human.” He laughed.

  “Ha. Funny,” I said wanly.

  “So if you’re free, why don’t we head over to see Margaret O’Neill and you can give me running commentary on everyone we pass on the way?”

  “How about I just sit quietly and not make a fool of myself?”

  He flashed that megawatt grin. “That works too.”

  Chapter Seven

  We found Margaret O’Neill on the tennis court at the Chipping Cheddar Country Club. She was mid-match against her instructor, the athletic and attractive Lance Hardaway. I wondered whether Margaret had any inkling that she was playing against a werewolf.

  Lance sniffed the air as we approached. He cut me a curious glance when he saw me approach with Chief Fox.

  “Is that you, Eden?” Margaret huffed as she whacked the ball across the court.

  “Hi, Mrs. O’Neill,” I said. “Good hit.” I had no idea if that was the accepted expression. I knew next to nothing about tennis.

  “It’s Ms. Kowalski now,” she said. “I finally went back to my maiden name a couple years ago. Seemed silly to keep the name when I didn’t keep the man.” She made eyes at Lance. She didn’t seem to realize that Lance played for the other team—and I didn’t just mean tennis.