Magical Misfire

by Kimberly Frost

  He licked and swallowed. Another scrape against the roof made us look toward the yard.

  “For foliage, that’s pretty pushy,” I said. “I’m not fixin’ to go out there with bare feet. It’s full-on winter and that ground’s cold.”

  Mercutio tipped his head down, touching his nose to the top of my bare foot.

  “I meant I wouldn’t go outside barefoot. In the kitchen with the oven on is fine,” I said. “In here it’s seventy-five degrees. Out there, it’s forty-eight, and rumor has it it’s going down to thirty. By Texas standards, that’s blizzard cold. Now I ask you, would anyone in her right mind go out in a blizzard without socks and boots?”

  Mercutio cocked his head and opened his mouth to answer.

  “I meant that to be rhetorical, Merc.” I leaned over the bowl. I added finely chopped Texas pecans, a dash of chili powder, and another splash of cream to the cocoa cream cake batter. “Besides, I’m real busy.” I stirred and then dipped my finger into the bowl. As soon as the batter hit my tongue, I smiled. Now we’re talking. I added pinches of nutmeg and pepper.

  Mercutio jumped onto the counter, nearly knocking the mixer off, and darted to the window that’s above the sink.

  “Watch your step,” I said, moving the mixer to the middle of the counter.

  Mercutio’s low growl raised the hair on the back of my neck. When it comes to announcing trouble, Mercutio’s more accurate than a police scanner. I reached into the corner and turned down the radio, then opened a bottom drawer and pulled out a flashlight. I turned it on and shined it out the window.

  I jumped when I caught a glimpse of a figure in the tree. I instantly lowered the light and yanked open the top drawer. Reaching behind spatulas and tongs, I closed my fist on the handle of my gun.

  I tucked it into the back of my jeans and moved away from the window. I yanked on the socks that were sitting next to my cooking clogs and slipped my feet into the shoes.

  “What do you think, Merc? A neighbor boy trying to sneak a peek at me in my undies again? Or real trouble?”

  Mercutio crossed the counter in two strides and pounced down to the floor. I watched him approach the back door. He kept his body low, in full-on stealth and ready-to-rumble stance.

  “All right, then,” I said, and reached over to turn off the kitchen light. “Someone more sinister than a teenage boy it is.”

  I crouched next to Merc. “Even with the lights off, he’ll see the door open. So we’ll have to move fast,” I said, and then rolled my eyes at myself. I didn’t need to tell Mercutio about speed. He could give lightning a run for its money.

  I moved the flashlight into my left hand so it was ready to be flipped on and gripped the door handle with my right. I took a deep breath and opened it.

  We burst into the yard. Claws out, Mercutio went up the trunk. I drew my gun with my right hand and shined the flashlight at the treetop.

  One glimpse told me the figure was all wrong. For a split second, I froze, staring at the gaunt face. His skin was so thin I could see stark white bones beneath the surface as he gnashed his teeth at me. Was there even flesh on those bones? Or just a translucent phantom covering? Is he alive or dead? I wondered frantically.

  A bright flash of light blinded me as the man—or whatever he was—jumped. I dropped to my knees and rolled for cover. He didn’t land on me—or the ground, that I heard.

  Tangled among the azalea bushes, I pointed the flashlight beam at the treetop. Mercutio howled a protest at the fact that the intruder had escaped before he’d gotten to him. I moved the light all around the yard, scanning every inch. I also checked the sky and the fence. No sign of the peeping skeleton.

  Mercutio returned to the ground, strolled past, and padded into the house.

  My heart thundered in my chest. “What the heck?” I muttered, rolling onto the patio. “We’re done, Merc?” I asked, following him inside. “Just like that?”

  Mercutio meowed.

  Apparently so. I locked the door, set my gun down, and brushed off my clothes.

  “Well, what was that? I didn’t hear it hit the ground. So was it a ghost, then?” I frowned. “I haven’t seen all that many ghosts, but the ones I have seen look like people. A little more transparent than a regular person sometimes, but not like a skeleton.”

  Merc sniffed.

  “And maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I think skeletons ought to be either covered with flesh and blood or buried in a coffin waiting to turn to dust as God intended. They don’t need to be creeping around in a person’s backyard, annoying the trees and giving me a heart attack when I’m trying out a new cream cake recipe.”

  Mercutio yawned and curled up on the floor a few feet from the door.

  I turned off the oven and put the batter in the fridge. “I’m going to consult some witches’ books. Not that I have many here to consult. But I’m not going to Bryn’s house. I’ve made it twelve whole days without sleeping with him, and no scary skeleton standing in a tree is going to send me to Seduction Central now that Bryn’s big case is finally over.”

  Mercutio didn’t move a whisker. When it comes to fighting for my life, Mercutio’s the best friend I could have. When it comes to my messed-up love life, I’m on my own. And actually it’s okay that Mercutio’s not into that kind of drama. That’s what the rest of the town is for.