by M. L. Briers
A slow to boil wicked smile appeared on Marilyn’s lips. “I did it just to spite you,” she admitted, and boy did it feel good.
Amber chuckled again. Things might have been turning strange in Clearview, but there was nothing more bizarre than seeing her mother so vibrant, so wilful, so daring, and telling her grandmother off. She liked this new, improved version of her mother, and she hoped it was going to stick around.
Louann sighed. “Well, I hope you’re happy that you put us all in danger,” she tossed back.
“I’m the only one who lives here,” Marilyn said, and then looked unsure. “Normally,” she added, remembering that she had a house full of people for the weekend.
“Well, I’ll be sleeping soundly in my bed tonight,” Louann informed her. “Can you say the same?” She eyed the others, and each one, in turn, looked to the next.
“I’ll keep Sandy in my room with me, just to be safe,” Amber said and pushed up to hunt her friend down.
“Well, I’m used to having a bad boy in my bedroom,” Claudia lied; it had felt like forever since she’d been close with anyone.
“Lucky you,” Lottie said like she envied that luck and relished it. “I’m richer than sin and hornier than the Devil, but it’s sure been a while.”
“Oh!” Scott said, pushing to his feet. “I can’t un-hear that, but I don’t want to hear the rest.” He hightailed it out of the room as Lottie chuckled.
“Really, Lottie?” Louann scolded her.
“I’m not dead yet, and certainly not from the waist down,” Lottie replied with a shrug as she grinned at Louann’s discomfort.
“I’ll alert the media,” Louann said.
“Good for you, Lottie,” Claudia said and offered Marilyn a poignant look.
“What?” Marilyn asked, shrugging as she turned on her heels. “I’m not the horny type.” She lied, walking towards the kitchen to get snacks. After all that booze, she needed something to mop it up, and it also gave her an excuse to be out of that room and away from her mother, and maybe put a little ice on the back of her neck – she was sure her cheeks were still burning hot.
“Liar, liar, bra’s on fire,” Claudia called and stopped her in her tracks.
Marilyn winced, shook it off and carried on. “The chance would be a fine thing,” she muttered to herself, echoing Lottie.
When life had handed her lemons in the form of her cheating husband, she hadn’t rushed to make lemonade. Now, she was set in her ways, and those lemons looked shrivelled and old, but there was life in the old dog yet, and she felt a little more like her old self – although, what she’d feel like in the morning was anyone’s guess.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
~
Claudia hugged the throw cushion to her chest, curled at one end of the sofa facing Marilyn; who was sitting staring at the flames of the open fire, she watched her with interest. After the excitement of the day, everyone else had gone to bed, but they had stayed up drinking hot chocolate and eating snacks that would be unforgiving on their hips for the rest of their lives.
Claudia flopped an arm across the cushions, and her hand slapped Marilyn’s arm, getting her attention. “Your house is quiet,” she said in a half-whisper. “Too quiet.”
“There can never be enough quiet in your life,” Marilyn said with a small chuckle. “After all those years of being woken in the night by small demon children, hell-bent on the destruction of my sanity, and who could take naps in the day when I had to keep going – quiet is good.”
“Quiet is overrated,” Claudia said, pulling her arm back and letting it fall against her body with a slap because she didn’t have the energy to bother with placing it down gently.
“How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Find the energy for the life you lead?” Marilyn asked, turning her head against the back cushions to look at her friend.
Claudia shrugged. “I have one life to live, and I’m not going to let age stop me,” she replied. Then she frowned. “Although, my body and soul was crying out for bed about two hours ago, but I don’t think I’d have made it up the stairs.”
“Easier just to sit here than climb the mountain,” Marilyn agreed. “I’ve been trying to summon the energy too, but – meh. You know, I never thought I’d feel this tired at fifty.”
“Fifty-two…”
“Oh, sure, those two years make all the difference,” Marilyn tossed back.
“I told you before, you are as old as you feel, it’s a mindset,” Claudia said.
“Then why weren’t you bounding up those stairs two hours ago?” Marilyn cocked a curious eyebrow at her.
“I guess my body came out in solidarity with your mind,” Claudia replied with a teasing grin and a half-chuckle.
“Do you think I was wrong to invite Neal in the house?”
Claudia frowned. “That was a sudden change in topic…”
“But?” Marilyn looked worried.
“I think we should go to bed and worry about Neal in the morning,” Claudia said, expending some of the last remnants of energy she had to push up to sit on the edge of the cushion.
Claudia knew that she was either going to make it to her feet or flop onto her face like a fish out of water – it was fifty-fifty at that point. “And – there would be no harm in putting up a few wards around the house to guard against unwanted intruders…”
“That’s it…” Marilyn said, and she tossed the throw cushion as she pushed to sit up.
“What’s it?”
“Who else showed up at the same time that Neal did?” Marilyn asked.
“Scott … me,” Claudia shrugged.
“And Sandy,” Marilyn said and raised her eyebrows.
Claudia frowned at the thought. “That little fawn caught in the headlights - Nah?”
Marilyn cocked her head to one side and offered her friend a long, hard stare. “Think about it,” she said and waited.
“She’s Bambi,” Claudia said, and then stopped on a deeper, more thoughtful frown. “Although, she could have tossed the house before she came to the bar…”
“And she could have cut your brakes because you’re you,” Marilyn said.
“Gee, thanks,” Claudia shot back.
“You were asking her questions she didn’t seem to want to answer…”
“I’m naturally suspicious of all things and people until I get to know them better,” Claudia said with another shrug.
“Do you know her any better than you did when you first met her?”
“Well, not really, but then I haven’t applied the thumbscrews and the torture chamber approach yet.”
“There you go,” Marilyn said, getting animated as she thrust her arms forward like she was delivering a package with a cute bow on top.
Claudia winced. She hoped it wasn’t Sandy – she’d kind of been the one to bring the woman into their lives. “But why?”
“I have no idea at three thirty-four in the morning,” Marilyn said as if that was a stupid question to ask.
“I guess she did conveniently run into me in the street,” Claudia said, but she wasn’t convinced.
“You wanna go wake her up and interrogate her?” Marilyn hissed in a low whisper.
“What? No!” Claudia said, screwing up her face and shaking her head at the thought of it. “Drag the poor girl from her bed, put the spotlight on her, and demand to know why she just happened to be in the wrong place at all the wrong times?”
“Exactly, you see the pattern too,” Marilyn said.
“I see you’ve had too much sugar, spice and all those additives that have messed with your brain,” Claudia scolded her. “What if you’re wrong?”
Marilyn opened her mouth, but she couldn’t come up with an answer. If the woman was innocent, it would send her running for the hills away from the mad witches. “How can she not know she’s a witch, that’s screwy?”
“Maybe nobody taught her – she said she didn’t have family…”
“Pah!” Marilyn said scowling. “You still have that power running through your veins and things happen…”
“That probably makes you wonder if you’re slightly insane,” Claudia said and scolded her with just a look. “We’re not going to drag her from her bed and accuse her of anything – what are we – witchfinders?”
“It’s not the witch side I’m worried about, it’s the firebug, burglar, brake cutter side,” Marilyn hissed back.
“Well, sleep with one eye open,” Claudia tossed back.
Marilyn sat bolt upright. “You think she’ll try something?”
“Oh, for the love of the Goddess, noooo,” Claudia tossed back.
“Good,” Marilyn said, deflating a little. “Because I didn’t get any sleep last night, and after all that dancing – I’m whacked.”
“Then go to bed like a normal person and stop accusing people without facts,” Claudia said, pushing up to her feet and reaching down to yank Marilyn up beside her.
“You have to admit it’s a weird coincidence, right?” Marilyn whispered.
“It’s …” Claudia floundered. “Oh hell, I don’t know, my brain kind of switched off and went to sleep two hours ago – can we revisit this in the morning?”
“Ugh!” Marilyn groaned.
“Now what?”
“I’m not looking forward to the morning, my body has already tightened up from all the dancing, and I’m going to look like a penguin after a few hours sleep.”
“Now there’s something to look forward to,” Claudia said with a chuckle.
“And you’re going to look as fresh as a daisy,” Marilyn said and rolled her eyes.
“You want to know my secret of looking reasonably good in the morning?” Claudia asked.
“Good genetics?”
“I put a light dusting of makeup on before I came downstairs…”
Marilyn scowled. “But why don’t you brush your hair?”
“Because it takes the attention away from the makeup on my face and gives the illusion I’ve just rolled out of bed,” she replied.
“Ha!” Marilyn said, impressed. “Devious with just the right amount of scheming.”
“Thank you,” Claudia said, linking arms and yanking her towards the stairs.
“But why would you do that?” Marilyn asked, confused.
“Because I’m getting older and I miss my youthful, fresh-faced glow,” Claudia said, snorting a chuckle. “Come on,” she said, sighing at the sight of the staircase in front of them. “We’ll help each other up the mountain.”
“Or maybe we could just crash on the sofa and call it a girlie sleepover?” Marilyn looked hopeful.
“Then neither of us would be able to move in the morning,” Claudia reminded her. “As pre-Rigor Mortis kicked in.”
“Rigor mortis?” Marilyn looked confused.
“Well, you can be a pre-teen and suffer pre-menopause, I like to think of the ageing process as pre-rigour mortis,” Claudia explained.
“Oh,” Marilyn said and scowled once more. “That’s like – deep and decidedly dark.”
“Which is what happens when you face your own mortality, don’t you think?”
“I’m trying to think, but I have pre-bed-brain – it’s like baby-brain, and menopause-brain all rolled into one, and the alcohol didn’t help.”
“The alcohol helps you forget why you can’t remember what you can’t remember when you don’t give a frig about remembering it anyway.”
Marilyn stopped on the stair and sighed. “I’m just going to sleep here,” she said, weary.
“At least make it to the landing.”
“I can’t go another step,” Marilyn said and sighed again.
“That’s what friends are for,” Claudia said and used her magic to zap her friend’s backside.
That got Marilyn moving, with a squeak and jump up to the next stair. “Gee, thanks, friend,” Marilyn bit out.
“Don’t make me do that on every stair, young lady,” Claudia said, mimicking Louann’s voice.
“It’s amazing how well you do that…”
“That and signing your mother’s signature, how else were we going to get out of school all those times?” Claudia tossed back.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
~
Amber had woken Scott up early and told him that he was driving Sandy to work so she could open up the store while Amber went back to her house and calculated the damage. He wasn’t happy about being woken, he didn’t seem to mind driving Sandy to work, but in big brother fashion, he didn’t like the idea of her being at the house alone.
It was broad daylight, and the deed had already been done, Amber doubted that whoever has tossed her place the night before would bother coming back in the cold light of day. Still, as she stood at the gate and looked at her house, she had the strangest sense of vulnerability that had never crossed her mind before.
It had always felt natural to her to be living alone in a little house on the outskirts of town by the woods she loved so much, but now that she knew someone had violated her personal space, touched her things, and walked where she walked every day – it didn’t feel so safe anymore.
Amber was both angry and creeped out. As she looked at the upstairs windows, it almost felt as if she was the visitor with someone watching her from above. A long, hard shiver travelled her spine, and she cursed it – cursed feeling like an outsider on her property – and cursed whoever had made her feel like that.
Heck, she even toyed with the idea of putting a little magic behind that curse, but as she wasn’t sure who the culprit was, she wasn’t entirely comfortable doing that. If she’d been more like Grandma Lou, she’d have hexed that sucker no problem.
Amber sighed; she needed to face the fact that she was never going to be like her grandmother, and accept that there were some times when life was going to kick her in the butt. She couldn’t do anything about it because she couldn’t go around giving people a lifetime of boils and bad luck.
Amber winced when she remembered the first time she had knowingly hexed someone. Bobby Andrews, aged nine, a severe case of the hiccups which she’d thought was funny – what hadn’t been funny was that it landed him in the hospital because he couldn’t eat or drink anything for two whole days – and his crime had been putting out his foot in the hallway, so she tripped over it.
Amber had learned a valuable lesson – be careful what you witch for – not because you’ll get it, but because you can’t always imagine the unforeseen circumstances of your actions once it’s underway. The spell takes on a life of its own.
But, boy, would she still like to take a pot-shot of magic at whoever broke into her house? You betcha.
Amber pushed open the garden gate, and the hinges gave a long squeal of protest because that didn’t sound creepily ominous. She made a mental note to oil that sucker for the next time she was feeling a little freaked out, and then dismissed it. The squeakier, the better, at least she’d hear someone coming.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have scoffed at Scott’s offer to go in with her. She put one foot in front of the other, and every step felt like a hundred. It took her no time at all to walk the path to her front door, and yet it felt like an eternity with a death march playing in the back of her brain somewhere.
“Get a grip,” she muttered and rolled her eyes as she pushed the key into the lock and turned it.
The deed was done, the house was empty, and the thundering of her heart was just dramatics that she could live without. Still, she made sure that her magic was tingling at her fingertips as she swung the front door open, and she let out a shriek as a towering figure of a man, dressed all in black, ran for the kitchen.
It took Amber a split second to go from – Help! There is a bad man in my house – again – to – Oh, the hell with this!” She found some of Grandma Lou’s backbone as she ran down the hallway – determined to splat that sucker with her magic.
~
Claudia padded into the kitchen o
n sock-clad feet, stopping at the sight of Marilyn sitting on a stool with her head resting on her arms on the countertop. It seemed they were both in the wars, but somehow, she half expected Marilyn to be standing there, whisking something with a whole lot of food already prepared around her and a cheery smile on her face.
Marilyn was the only person she knew who could walk through fire and still get up to make breakfast the next day. The woman was more together than she could ever hope to be – without expending a lot of time, energy and magic to get her nowhere close – and she’d raised two children, and that was two more than Claudia thought she’d be able to keep alive if their roles had been reversed.
“Fire!” Claudia yelled, and Marilyn snapped to attention, her head whipping this way and that as she sniffed the air and looked for danger. “Gotcha!” she added, putting her panicked friend out of her misery.
Marilyn had felt that burst of adrenaline, that fight or flight moment and she might have felt like poop, but her protectionist instinct had kicked in, and she was ready to pee on the flames to put them out if necessary. Once that moment was over, and the danger was gone, she felt like yesterday’s sweaty socks again – or maybe she’d just been sucking on them in her sleep if the taste in her mouth was anything to go by – even tongue felt spongy.
Marilyn centred a hard glare at Claudia. She didn’t appreciate the humour when her head was pounding like her heart. “I could say I hate you, but…”
“We both know you wouldn’t mean it…”
“Right now I might,” Marilyn said and groaned at the throbbing in her temples. That wasn’t normal, or maybe it was normal at her age – who knew – every day brought her a new normal any way, so why should today be any different? “I need coffee…”
“You need a cure-all,” Claudia said, and when Marilyn went to get up, she put a hand on her shoulder to keep her on the stool. “I got this,” she said and got a little suspicious side-eye from her friend. “Relax, coffee first, so you can get those eyes open – they were open wide when I yelled fire,” she chuckled.