Southern Spells

by Amy Boyles

  Lane choked. “Boyfriend?”

  Amelia intervened quickly. “We’ve only just met. Lane’s not exactly my boyfriend. Not that he couldn’t be,” she said quickly. “But as of right now, he isn’t.”

  “That’s good,” Licky said. “Take it slow. Let him know all your quirks. Like the fact that you used to pick your nose and eat your boogers when you were little.”

  Amelia’s eyes widened to saucers.

  Mint picked up where Licky dropped off. “Or the fact that when she was little, you could light Amelia’s farts and power all of Magnolia Cove with them.”

  Amelia’s head fell into her hands.

  Lane smiled widely. “I think my mom would’ve said the same thing about me.”

  Amelia raised her face so we could see her, but from her expression, I could tell she wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or horrified.

  “But no matter what,” Mint said, poking the air with the steak, “the most interesting thing Amelia’s done is to change from that pixie cut to this look. And she’s even wearing makeup.”

  Amelia rose. “Okay. That’s great. Wow. I think the festival committee is calling for you. I hear the loudspeaker through the walls.”

  “I don’t hear it,” Licky said.

  “Well, I do,” Amelia said.

  “Me, too,” I seconded, trying to help out my cousin.

  “Oh yes,” Cordelia added. “I think Mayor Potion is talking now. You’d better get over there to see what all the fuss is about.”

  I rose and gently started pushing Licky toward the door. “Yes, time to go.”

  She turned toward Amelia. “Well, okay. But we wanted to stop by.” She paused and squinted. “Amelia, what’s that hanging from your ear?”

  Amelia clutched the top of her lobe. “Nothing. Not a thing.”

  But I could see a blond tendril of hair had fallen. I glanced worriedly at her makeup. The contouring job we’d done was unraveling quickly, and her features were returning to their normal pixie look instead of the lush, Farrah Fawcett thing she had going on.

  Betty rose. “Lane, it looks like we’re having a little family craziness right now.” She clapped her hands and a to-go container appeared, chock full of food. “Can you call on Amelia later? That is, if you don’t have to scale a mountain.”

  Lane flashed his thousand-watt smile and said, “I’m not scaling mountains for a couple of days. I can come back. I see there’s a lot going on.”

  He gave Amelia a quick wave and headed out the door, squeezing between Licky and Mint, who weren’t going anywhere fast.

  As soon as he was gone, Amelia spewed a well of anger toward her mother and aunt.

  “Do you two intentionally go around wrecking people’s lives? Who tells their daughter’s boyfriend that she used to eat boogers? And what aunt talks about flatulence?”

  The walls practically shook from her anger. I cringed, wedging my back into the wall.

  “We’re sorry, dear,” Licky said.

  “Get out! Just get out. I don’t want to see you ever again!”

  The room stilled to an eerie silence. Mint and Licky exchanged a look. It was Mint who spoke. “Let’s go.”

  They left quietly. As soon as they were gone, Betty turned to Amelia. “Don’t stress yourself out, dear. It’ll make your hair fall out.”

  As if on cue, the entire head of fake hair that Amelia wore detached from her scalp and plopped in a heap on the floor.

  Amelia screamed and ran upstairs.

  Betty smiled at us. “Don’t worry, I’ll make Lane go bald overnight so that they match.”

  ELEVEN

  My head was still pounding. Imagine after that fiasco of a Sunday meal, I had a headache. I’m sure you’re surprised.

  But anyway, I took a nap, and was awakened to the sound of scratching. I blinked my eyes open and saw Mattie pawing at the window.

  Groggy with a brain full of fuzz, I teetered over and opened it.

  “Sugar, I been tappin’ for five minutes. You were out cold.”

  I yawned. “Yeah. I’m a little tired. Come on in.”

  She padded from the window seat onto my bed and started licking her paws. Here I was waiting for her to give me some serious intel, and she was taking a bath.

  “So did you find anything out?” I said.

  Mattie stopped, blinked at me. “Oh sugar, yes. Sorry, I got cat brain.”

  I straightened the sheets and pillows on the bed. “Is that like a short-term memory problem?”

  Mattie nodded. “Kinda. My brain ain’t big like yours, so I forget.”

  The way she looked at me, I wasn’t sure if she was calling my big brain a plus or a minus. To be honest, it didn’t matter to me.

  “Okay, what’d you find out?”

  Mattie stopped licking herself. “I met this mouse who claims that inside the house are all sorts of strange things.”

  “Really?”

  Mattie meowed. “That’s what he said.”

  “Did you go in?”

  She shook her head. “No. But we’re meeting the mouse there tonight.”

  “We are?”

  “Yep. As soon as it gets dark, we’ll head on over.”

  “Okay, great.” I cringed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I rubbed my temples. “I’ve got this headache that won’t go away.”

  “Sugar, did you forget that if you don’t use your powers, they build up? That buildup can give you a headache.”

  I grimaced. “Yeah, I guess with everything that’s going on I forgot.”

  “You need to use up some magic. Why don’t we go ahead and get ready? By the time we work on your power, it’ll be time to meet the mouse at Melbalean’s.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  I packed a knapsack with a flashlight, water and snacks in case I got hungry. A short time later we were ready to head from the house.

  I noticed Betty rocking beside the fire. “You okay?”

  She grabbed her middle. “I’m not feeling well. I think those idiot police did something to me.”

  “You look a little pale. Are you sure you’re not catching a cold?”

  Betty shook her head. “I don’t get sick. Ever. I’m immune.”

  I clicked my tongue. “From sickness.”

  “Right.” She paused. Her glassy eyes roamed the room. Yep. She looked kinda sick to me, but what did I know? “If I need you to, can you do the morning grab-and-go of Pete?”

  I nodded. “Sure.”

  Mattie and I left, cutting through the Cotton and Cobwebs festival. There were plenty of people in attendance, but the energy from yesterday had waned.

  A whiff of grilled meat drifted up my nostrils, making my stomach rumble. I glanced around to see where it was coming from and saw another line at Leona’s, though Leona wasn’t the person dishing up food.

  My gaze drifted to the booths where Betty and Melbalean had set up shop. Yellow “Do Not Cross” tape hung limply around the structure, and a tarp draped the one where Melbalean had been murdered.

  A figure shuffled out from behind the booths. It was Leona. She was scurrying around as if looking for something.

  “What’s she doing there?” I said.

  “Probably looking for a raccoon to cook up,” Mattie said.

  I stared at her. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Mattie meowed. “‘Course. Everybody knows Leona don’t cook up raccoon.”

  “That’s good.”

  “She prefers possum.”

  “That does not make me feel better.”

  Mattie padded forward. “I was kidding, sugar. Come on. Let’s go see if we can find a quiet spot to work your magic.”

  “Where are we going exactly?”

  Mattie’s green eyes flashed as she glanced at me. “Why, the Conjuring Caverns, of course. They’re full of magic and things that might scare you.”

  “Like what?”

  “Spiders.”

  “Yep, that’ll work,” I
said.

  I was not crazy about spiders. I followed Mattie across town to a grassy knoll with a hole in it. Water dripped from the opening, and a grate covered the bottom. “This looks like a sewer.”

  Mattie laughed. “It’s the low part of the caves. Just trust me. You enter on one end and wind up in another.”

  I edged back. “Say what?”

  Mattie flicked her tail as she pranced forward. “That’s how it works. Come on.”

  I dipped my head to avoid colliding with what looked like wet seaweed. The smell of mildew drifted up my nostrils. I touched a wall and layer of slime attached to my palm.

  Gross.

  This was more like something out of a Stephen King novel than what I’d consider Conjuring Caverns. But luckily, the hole opened after a few feet, becoming a brown cave. Light from outside dappled the walls until we were far enough back that the cavern darkened.

  Fear of dark, tight places constricted my throat. “How far are we supposed to go?”

  “We’re almost there.”

  A few more hesitant steps in and light burst forth. I was suddenly facing the opposite direction, as if I were leaving the sewer. Because no matter what way you spun it, we were in a sewer.

  Water dripped from the ceiling into a small pool that seemed lit from within. Crystalline water glowed. The scent of mildew had vanished, and in its place was the sharp smell of pine trees.

  “Where are we?” I said.

  “On the other side of Magnolia Cove. It’s a shortcut, but it will also work with trying to get rid of your magic.”

  I quirked a brow at her. “How is this going to help?”

  Mattie crept around to one side of the puddle and sat. “That water holds things you’re afraid of. That’s why this place is called Conjuring Caverns. There’s a lot of power here. But what that there pool will do is show your fears. I figure we throw somethin’ scary enough at you, you’ll use a burst of power.”

  “Oh.”

  She was probably right. Every other time I’d used my power, it had been when something terrifying had either attacked me or been thrown in my path. If I could manage to use my magic—and I don’t mean the talking to animals portion—when I actually needed it, then that would be a bonus.

  “So what do I do?” I said, sinking to my knees. I pulled the knapsack over my head and plopped it on the smooth surface beside me.

  “Dip your hands in. That’s all you have to do.”

  I quirked a brow. “So people come here to see what they fear the most?”

  Mattie shook her head. It was an all-too-human move. “No, sugar. They come for all sorts of reasons. It’s mainly the teenagers lookin’ for a good scare that come to dip their hands in. Oh, and you.”

  “Thanks,” I said flatly.

  I pushed up my sleeves and slipped my hands below the surface. My heart thundered and a line of sweat sprinkled my brow. The hollow sound of water droplets splashing to the floor filled my ears.

  Let’s say I was on edge.

  I had no idea what to expect, but in the back of my mind, I figured the one thing I most feared would be Rufus. I did not want to see that guy. Two times he’d tried to capture me and twice I’d escaped.

  Would I manage to slip from his grasp if he tried to take me one more time?

  All this filled my head as a cloud of smoke rose from the puddle. It curled and coiled, forming into a dark shape.

  I watched as ebony patches of fur blazed to life. Sharp fangs, claws made to slash flesh and a deep growl echoed in the chamber.

  It looked real. It smelled real. And when the werewolf sprang toward me, teeth dripping with saliva, I scrambled back and threw out my hand.

  I wanted it gone, away.

  The werewolf reared as if in pain. With its head arched, the creature released a heart-thundering howl and evaporated into twisting wisps of steam.

  It was the same creature I’d seen in the Cobweb Forest several weeks ago. I swallowed an egg in my throat as my heart knocked like it would pound right on out of my chest.

  Mattie licked her lips. “Well, the last thing I expected to see was that. I figured you’d be most afraid of a talking goat or something.”

  I clutched my chest. “I thought it would be Rufus.”

  “That makes more sense than a goat, I suppose.”

  I nodded. “I suppose so.”

  “Don’t you worry, sugar. Betty watches that werewolf. That dog ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

  I rubbed goosebumps from my arms. “Good thing. Come on. My headache’s gone and I think I’ve had enough of this place for now.”

  Mattie led me from the cavern.

  We descended a steep slope until we reached gravel. The stretch led us to one of the main streets that wound around town. I followed Mattie until we hit a dirt road nestled between two rows of trees. The sun was slipping from sight, so I pulled out my flashlight to lend extra visibility.

  “I should’ve brought my skillet so we could ride back,” I said.

  Mattie glanced up at me. “I shoulda told you to. But either way, I know a shortcut that won’t take us through the cave. How’s that sound?”

  I shivered. “Great. Not interested in returning there anytime soon.”

  Just around a bend, a green cottage came into view. Gaslights lined the porch. I paused. “Is someone home?”

  Mattie shook her head. “The mouse said he’d turn ‘em on for us.”

  “Oh, okay.” I stopped. “But you’re sure? Axel said they might let Rufus into town for the funeral.”

  Mattie picked up her pace. “Then I guess we need to be hurryin’. Come on, let’s go around back.”

  I followed her to the rear, where a set of steps led to a lower level basement door. Cobwebs framed the stairwell. Something slithered between a pair of bushes beside the house.

  “Yeah, I’m not going down there,” I said.

  Mattie laughed. “Your mom was a chicken, too. Let me get that mouse.”

  Mattie meowed a few times. A second later, a small brown rodent scurried from the bushes. Oh, so that’s what had been in the bushes—only a little mouse. Not a scary snake or a terrifying Rufus.

  Good to know.

  “This is my mistress, Pepper,” Mattie said.

  “Pleased to meet you,” the mouse said. “My name’s Dave.”

  Dave. The mouse. Nothing failed to surprise me anymore.

  “Thank you for meeting us,” I said.

  Mattie crept to him. “Well? Did you bring something?”

  Dave squeaked. “I was only able to find one. She used to have more, but she must’ve moved them.”

  “Moved what?” I said.

  “The magic containers,” Dave said, glancing up at me.

  Mattie cocked her head. “According to Dave, Melbalean did work magic that took important things from people.”

  “What sort of things?” I said.

  Dave disappeared into a bush. He returned, nudging something along with his nose.

  “Is that an egg?” I said.

  Dave squeaked out a yes.

  “And this egg has something in it?” I said skeptically.

  “Yes,” Dave said. “It should.”

  I sighed. This was about the stupidest thing I’d ever heard. I was about to say thanks but no thanks, when I heard tires on dirt coming up the drive.

  “Hide,” Mattie said.

  I scrambled behind one of the bushes. I waited, holding my breath and wincing as a branch poked me right in the ribs. The car idled in the drive. After a few moments, the vehicle backed out, heading to town.

  The three of us convened again. “Take the egg,” Dave prodded.

  “It’s not rotten, is it?” I said.

  “It’s magic,” he insisted.

  I picked up the egg and held it to the light. It was an ordinary ochre color. Nothing particularly interesting about it. Mattie nudged me. I was crouching and hadn’t expected it. My grasp on the egg loosened and it slipped from my fingers.

&n
bsp; I scrambled to catch it, but it splattered against the poured concrete sidewalk. I cowered, anticipating a huge rotting stink to waft up into the air.

  Don’t ask me why I thought that, but it was an egg that a mouse had given me. I didn’t expect it to be the best cared for little egg on the planet.

  But when the shell broke open and its contents spilled out, it wasn’t a yellow yoke and some clear membrane. It was a face—a beautiful young woman with flowing black hair, dark skin, hazel eyes and high cheekbones. She was gorgeous.

  I peered closer, wanting to get a better gander. “What’s that?”

  The mouse squeaked, “Someone’s looks.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Mattie pawed at the shell until it completely broke away. “What he means is—Melbalean took someone’s beauty in exchange for a favor.”

  I gasped. “So this beautiful woman gave up her looks to Melbalean? So what Peter Potion said wasn’t a lie.”

  Mattie sat. “Don’t look like it to me.”

  I picked at the broken fragments. “And then Melbalean hid what she stole in eggshells?”

  “Least likely place someone would look,” Dave said.

  I nodded. “Well, that at least makes the most sense out of everything else. But why not put them in something less fragile?”

  “She had them in a carton,” Dave said as if that answered it all.

  “Why do I even question things if they have reasonable explanations?”

  Sure. If you can call stowing a person’s looks in an eggshell in a carton reasonable. Am I the only person that wonders what would happen if some drunk guy broke into the house in the middle of the night looking for a midnight snack and he scrambled up one of those eggs?

  For a witch who traded in faces and secrecy, that could’ve been a problem.

  Told you I had an overactive imagination.

  I gestured toward the face. “What do we do with this?”

  “Put it in your water bottle,” Mattie said.

  I pulled a bottle from the knapsack and emptied it into the bushes. I will not lie and say I enjoyed scooping up the eggy beauty and dumping it in, but that’s what happened.

  I capped it and said to Dave, “Thanks so much. This is very helpful.”

  The mouse said his goodnights and then he dove into the hedges.